Marked
by UndergroundValentine
Summary: It was mutual when he left, but, apparently, not everyone saw it that way. Months before Adam's supposed to come home from Glam Nation, Drake is attacked on the streets and left with scars that will never fade with time.
1. He Doesn't Come Down When He Calls

Collab between myself and HieiTheFallen. This was inspired by mine and Sinsrose's Adommy/Brassidy trilogy Burn (part one: Burn, part two: Spindle, part three: Hear Me), in which in Hear Me, Drake has severe facial damage.

Warnings: Language, graphic violence, crude humor, sexual content, emotional trauma.

Hiei and I alternate, for now, between Drake, Cassidy and Brad's pov's. The easiest way to explain this is that she has the odd chapters and I have the even chapters. Not that it really matters, when we write, we're like one fucking person. ;3 Anyways. Yeah.

Hope you guys enjoy it.

**

* * *

Chapter One: He Doesn't Come Down When He Calls  
Drake's POV**

It had been a few months since Adam left on his Glam Nation tour. A few weeks before he left, we talked and we both decided that, while we still loved and cared for each other, that he needed to focus on his music and getting his career started than he needed to focus on me. We had a mutual agreement to stop 'dating' but by no means was it a bad break up. In fact, we both expected to get back together one day.

I watched all of Adam's shows on the internet and even attended a few. I owned his album and every time I felt lonely, I read his Thank You dedication in the back of the little booklet thing. I missed him, but he was happy and, overall, so was I.

My art career had never been better. So many people have been coming to my art shows recently. Several museums even had some of my larger pieces on display and so many people were trying to hire me to decorate their homes or their businesses. I had a busy schedule, and even though I wasn't on tour, I did travel around a lot for my profession and sometimes just looking for inspiration.

Adam and I still talked four or five times a week. We were still super close, and every time we talked, he would ask me more about myself and talk less about his success. Sometimes he'd even slip in the fact that he and Tommy were just friends and their kissing didn't mean anything. That always just made me laugh but I knew he truly didn't want me to believe there was anything between us.

Basically life was good, busy and sometimes hectic, but good. Some of Adam's fans didn't exactly like me because they had this distorted idea that our break up was terrible and that I was the entire cause of it, but that wasn't even close to true. Sometimes the things they said about me hurt a little, but I generally ignored it and I had a larger support group than I did an anti- Drake LaBry group. Everything was generally almost fantastic.

Until today.

"Hey, you're Drake LaBry, right?" I heard someone mumbled behind me. It was dark out, probably close to eleven o'clock. I'd been working late to put my newest art show together. It was opening tomorrow and I had to make sure that everything was finished for the people coming.

I turned to face the man. He was wearing a dark hoodie with the hood pulled up over his head and a dark pair of skinny jeans. He towered over me at a good six foot two, maybe three or four and he hands were tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. To sum it up, this guy really gave me the creeps. "Um… no, no that's not me," I whispered, backing away from the man.

"If you aren't Drake LaBry, why'd you turn around when I said your name?" he asked, his eyes shining in the moonlight from under the black hood.

"Just to make sure you knew you were mistaking…" I said, pulling my jacket tightly against my body like a false sense of security and safety. Now I really wished I drove my Mazda today instead of walking… Fuck my healthy tendencies!

He smiled at me, his teeth surprising white against his dark attire. "Oh, that's too bad…" he whispered and I shrugged, muttering a soft "I'm sorry" before I turned and started to walk away.

I didn't get very far before hands gripped my upper arms tightly and forced my chest into the brick wall of the nearest building. My head hit particularly hard, bouncing off and I cried in pain. At first, I thought I was being robbed, but he didn't take my wallet from my back pocket or the necklace clasped around my neck, so my second thought was that I was being raped. What did they always say to do if you were about to be raped? Scream? Yes, but it seemed like an extremely bad idea. What if he hurt me even worse because I was screaming? I mean, if I just let him have his way with me, I might possibly make it through this alive, right?

"Shut up, bitch," he hissed. The man pressed his body against mine, his fingers tangling into my hair tightly and yanking, turning my face so I had to look at him. Looking at him closely, I saw that he had a rather pretty face with green eyes but there was something… demented about them.

"What do you want with me?" I whimpered and he smirked, the hand on my arm disappearing. He kept me pinned down simply with the bulk of his body. He was well built but not fat, kind of like Adam.

"What do I want with you? Nothing. Absolutely nothing, you whore," he hissed, and his hand disappeared into, what I assumed to be his hoodie pocket, and a breath later, he was holding a large hunting knife. He smirked at me and I gasped in shock and horror. What had I ever done to this man? I didn't even know him! "I suppose you can think of this as karma knocking on your door…" He examined the blade of his knife, imagining it slicing through flesh, I assumed, but it gave me just enough of an opportunity to do something.

I put my hands flat against the brick wall and shoved backwards with all the strength I had in my tiny frame. His knife caught hold of my arm and sliced a pretty deep, six inch gash on my arm and I cried out, grabbing hold of my arm and running for my fucking life. I went jogging several times a week and I used to be a cross country and track star in high school. I got free college for those two things, but I was kind of out of practice. Even still, I could run decently, but so could he. He was close the entire time and I was, honestly, afraid for my life.

Was he going to kill me? Was he trying to? Why? And what was all that shit about karma? I'm not a bad person! I didn't do anything wrong. "Running isn't going to help!" he called after me and I turned a corner. A second later, so did he and I looked back at him just long enough to see his hand let go of his knife. I thought I would out run it, but just as I was about to turn another corner, the blade sliced into my calf and I cried, stumbling onto the concrete, of which my elbows took most of the damage. Fucking Hell…

I rolled over onto my back just as the man picked the bloody knife up, the blade scraping loudly across the sidewalk. He knelt down, one knee coming up painfully between my thighs and the other on the side of my right thigh. One of his large hands pressed into my throat, cutting off most of my air. "Don't worry, I'm not ganna kill you, I'm just making you suffer what you made him suffer…" he whispered, his eyes fixating on the knife for another long moment.

"W-who…?" I gasped out. Who the Hell had I hurt so badly?

"You know," he whispered, leaning down so our faces were a little less than a foot apart. "It's a shame too. You're so pretty…" he added, raising the knife to my cheek. He sliced through the skin like it was hot butter and I cried out, trying to jerk away but the knife cut through my face again. A for a third and a fourth time.

"Stop it! Stop it, please!" I attempted to shout, but I really couldn't even breath. I could taste my own blood spilling into my mouth. I kept my eyes squeezed shut, tightly as the knife slashed down across mostly the right side of my face countless times. The pain was unbelievable and the amount of blood I was losing almost amazed me because, surely, I had to have been dead by now…

He laughed as the knife came down, slicing from my eyebrow, down my right eye, cheek, jaw and neck. I screamed, finally shoving him off of me. I heard the knife clatter to the ground, but I didn't think about it. I stood up, holding onto the right side of my face tightly and I ran off. I assumed the man didn't chase after me because as I ran, his laughter got fainter and fainter.

Fuck… I needed help. I was bleeding an awful lot and I couldn't open my right eye. My lips were bleeding profusely from multiple cuts and slashed across them. The only thing I could think to do was call Cassidy or Brad, surely one of them would be able to help me… If I was lucky, they were together.

Clumsily, I took my phone out of my right pocket with my left hand. I almost felt as if my face would fall to ribbons if I didn't hold it together with one hand, and since I was right handed, it made handling my phone with my left hand extremely difficult. But eventually I did get Cassidy's number dialed.

"Hello?" Cassidy answered in a sing song tone after about two rings. He must have been doing something fun to be in such a good mood… "Drake? What's up? I figured you be in bed by now with the show and everything tomorrow," he added.

"Cass, I need your help," I gasped. The slices to my lips made it painful and rather difficult to talk.

"What do you mean? Is everything okay?" he asked and I could feel salty tears swelling my eyes. I knew they were salty because they burned the wounds greatly.

"No… No, Cass, someone just attacked me while I was on my way home. I can't really see and I'm bleeding everywhere!" I cried, stumbling against a wall. I couldn't keep myself up any longer without support.

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds and then I heard a lot of shuffling and someone in the background asking what was going on. I could only assume that was Brad. "Where are you, Drake? We're on our way. Do you feel like you're going to pass out and are you still in danger? Is whoever attacked you still around?"

"No, he's not around me but I think I'm a few blocks away from your place…" I had to stop to spit out a handful of blood that had pooled into my mouth. "Like the intersection of 3rd and Anthony…"

"Alright, we're coming right now. Stay put unless you think that guy is around. We'll be there in a minute," he said, his tone sounding serious and defensive. It was good to have friends like Cassidy and Brad because at least I knew I could always count on them.

A few minutes felt like a giant leap towards death. I felt like I was dying because I was losing so much blood. I felt light headed and sick to my stomach. Every noise I heard startled me out of the much wanted sleep because I thought it was going to be the man that had done this to me…

"Drake? Drake is that you?" It was Cassidy calling out to me, but I jumped and whimpered anyway. "Oh my God, Drake…" Cassidy ran over to me, putting one arm around my waist and prying my hand away from my face with the other hand. Cassidy gasped and once Brad was close enough (he just didn't run as fast because he was shorter than Cassidy) he gasped in horror too. "Brad, call an ambulance…" Cassidy said and he took the over shirt he was wearing off, balling it up and holding it to the right side of my face.

As stupid as it sounds, I was relieved that my face didn't completely fall apart when he removed my hand. The cloth would be much more effect too, considering the obvious. It would stop the bleeding more than my hand would. "Shh, Drake… It's alright. We're ganna get you to a hospital. It'll be alright, baby. Shh…" he whispered, pressing his lips into my hair and stroking the tears from the left side of my face.

I was finding it harder and harder to stay conscious, like I was fading in and out. "Drake, you gotta stay awake, baby. You need to stay with me, okay? You can't sleep yet…" I knew Cassidy was afraid that if I slipped into a deep enough sleep, I would wake up. Too much blood loss could result in a coma

"Yes, yes, YES! Please, we need an ambulance as soon as possible. My friend has been attacked and he's bleeding a lot!" Brad shouted into the phone, but it was hazy to me. It was quieter than it should have been… God, I just couldn't stay awake…

"Drake? Drake? Wake up, you need to stay awake!" It wasn't Cassidy or Brad shouting at me and I realized, I was lying on my back. How long had I been out? And why couldn't I hold onto consciousness? I was too far gone.


	2. Afraid To Open My Eyes

**Chapter Two: Afraid to open my eyes cause of what I'd find**

**Cassidy's POV**

"Drake? Drake? Come on, baby, stay awake— stay with me… _Drake!_" I shouted, but he was out like a light. I felt my heart pounding like a drum in my chest as I held my shirt to the side of his face. I was trembling from head to toe, partly from the shock of seeing Drake so… So scarred and partly from the fact that tonight it was freezing cold. I bit down on my bottom lip, almost wanting to pull the shirt away and look again, but I was sure if I did I wouldn't be able to hold my dinner in. I was surprised that I was managing it right now.

But.. Who… Who would have the _audacity_ to _attack_ Drake? Of all people in this world— Drake? He was the kindest, sweetest, most considerate and amazing person (next to Adam, of course— God, Adam…) that I'd ever met. Why would anyone want to hurt him? I mean, I knew that some of Adam's fans didn't really like Drake; they thought the break up was terrible and blah-blah-blah, but it wasn't! Adam had even said in interviews that it was mutual and there was no pain or heartache.

Fuck, who could have done this? There was, virtually, no one out at this time of night anyway. I swallowed the lump in my throat, looking back down at Drake. He needed to wake up. I tried shaking him, tried saying his name over and over… But he was out. Into sleep. No, he couldn't sleep yet, he couldn't. He needed to go to a hospital. He needed to be okay and he needed to stay alive before he could sleep… Fuck, Drake…

"Brad, there'd better be a fucking ambulance on the way!" I shouted over to him. Brad looked like he was about ready to lose his fucking stomach, he was so pale. He kept staring at Drake's covered face, as if looking through the shirt and at the wounds. I swallowed another lump, looking back down at Drake as Brad continued to shout at the people on the other end of the line.

"Come on, baby… Come on. You need to wake up. You need to make it. We need you. _Adam needs you_, come on! _Please!_" I shouted, tears welling in my eyes. If I lost my best friend, I would hunt down the sorry motherfucker who did this time. I ran fingers through his hair, caressed his cheeks, did everything possible to try and wake him back up. I had to make sure, though, that he was still breathing every few minutes. His heart beat was soft in beats, but they were constant.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I hissed, looking over at Brad again. He wasn't on his phone anymore and I could only assume that the police and the ambulance were on their way. They had to be on their way! Brad shuffled over, kneeling next to me and wrapping his arms around my waist. I rested my head against his, feeling tears falling down my cheeks. Goddamnit, Drake…

It felt like eternity before the ambulance arrived. They pulled up and loaded Drake onto a stretcher. They said Brad and I could ride with him. We climbed up, sitting on a small little bench thing inside the ambulance next to him, but enough out of the way that the paramedics could take a look at him. We watched as they peeled the now-ruined shirt from Drake's face, and I wanted to vomit and cry.

You almost couldn't tell who he was anymore on the right side. There were so many cuts that slashed and crisscrossed his cheek. One even ran down across his eye and down to his neck. Brad shook next to me and I pulled him into my arms, burying his face into my neck. Brad hid himself away from looking, but I couldn't tear my eyes away. His face was covered in blood, and there were parts of skin that were so cut up I could see into the muscles beneath. My stomach flipped and tears fell down my face. Cuts ran across his lips, over his nose. I would be amazed if he would still be able to see out of his right eye. My heart was beating against my ribs and I finally tore my eyes away, closing them and pressing my face into Brad's hair. But the image of his face was burned into my mind. It was all I could see.

I knew the paramedics were cleaning the wounds— I could smell the peroxide. My stomach kept doing flips as I looked over again. They had put strips of gauze around his nose and on his cheek, to protect the damaged skin as they held an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. Another paramedic was cleaning a cut on his arm, wrapping it up to be stitched later.

The paramedics were talking to Drake, trying to get him to wake up. At one point his eyes fluttered open briefly, but it looked like he wasn't really seeing anybody. He had that dazed, blank look, you know? The paramedics were telling him that he had to stay away— even Brad and I tried, but our voices were lost under those who knew what they were doing. And as quickly as he woke up, he went back under again, his head tilting to the left, exposing— clearly— the extremities of his wounds.

It was horrible, seeing all of the cuts— angry and red, destroying half of his face. I felt like I was going to puke, so I just turned my head away again, inhaling slowly through my nose. But the smell of peroxide and blood was overwhelming, making me dizzy and giving me a gnarly headache. Everything was just pounding into my brain and all I could think about was _how are we going to tell Adam?_

Fuck, Adam…

The ambulance bounced up over a speed bump and we pulled into the hospital parking lot. When the vehicle came to a stop, the paramedics had us wait so they could pull Drake out and wheel him into the ER. Brad and I sat, watching for a moment as they carted him off as fast as they could before we climbed out. Brad was shaking like a leaf, clinging to my arm as we walked into the lobby through the back doors. We were going to have to wait, but for how long, we didn't know.

Brad sat down in a chair with his knees drawn to his chest as I got us some coffee from a small snack area. I set the cups down on the side table before sitting in the chair next to him, reaching over and taking his hand in mine. His eyes were distant for the longest time, and he didn't say anything as we sat, leaving me to my thoughts.

Drake had been attacked only a few months after Adam left to go on tour. Could this have been connected to a fan who didn't think highly of Drake? It was all together possible, but I didn't want to think of Adam's fans having some kind of vendetta against him. I didn't like to think of Adam's fans having any kind of negative energy towards anyone. Weren't they supposed to follow his message of love? Weren't they supposed to practically worship what his music meant? I'm pretty sure Adam didn't have a single song out there that says to attack someone…

Besides, in Adam's "thank you" dedications, he personally addresses Drake. If things were rotten between them, he wouldn't have said those things… I sighed, rubbing my eyes a little. I was exhausted. Emotionally drained and physically weak. I wanted to drop and fall asleep, but my worry for Drake kept my brain wired and aware despite my desire for some sleep.

"What are we supposed to tell Adam?" Brad's voice was soft, almost barely there at all. I glanced over at him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. In truth, I didn't know. He was on tour, having the time of his life right now. How could we call him and say that his boy had been attacked? He was scheduled to do shows through December, and it was only September, now.

"I'm not sure, yet." I mumbled, staring down at the floor beneath my feet. I was almost positive that, despite his situation, Drake would probably prefer us not to tell Adam what happened. Drake was, often, a little sensitive about how he looked, and this was just a big, fat slap in the face to his confidence. Not to mention, what if he was afraid Adam wouldn't want him anymore because of how he looked? I bit down on my bottom lip, thinking. No, Adam was better than that. He doesn't care about looks, he cares about heart and personality. He'd look past what happened and see that Drake's still himself…

"Should we call him? Tell him what happened?" Brad muttered, looking over at me. I sighed softly, running fingers through my hair.

"No. Let him finish his tour. We'll tell him when he comes home, that way Drake's… wounds… have time to heal. That way _Drake_, himself, has time to heal," I said softly, glancing over at him. Brad frowned for a moment.

"Do you really think he'll get over something like this, though? Cass— he was just _attacked _in the middle of the night. Practically half of his face is _gone_. That's not something someone just _heals_ from." Brad argued, though his tone wasn't angry or offensive. I bit my lip again, sighing softly.

"I know that, Brad—" but Brad had more to say.

"Sure, the wounds will heal, but the scars will remain. That _fear_ will remain that, if he goes out again, he's going to face the same thing. That's not something people get over very easily," I sighed.

"I _know_, Brad!" I hissed. I didn't want to be angry with him, but he was stretching his point a little too far. I knew that Drake was going to have a hard time getting over this. I knew that the scars— physically, mentally and emotionally— would _always_ remain. I _knew_ all of that already! I didn't need Brad to reiterate my thoughts for me.

He shrunk back in his seat, frowning, "I'm sorry…" He mumbled and I sighed again, feeling like an asshole.

"No… Don't be, I… I shouldn't have yelled at you. I'm just… I'm worried about Drake. He lost a lot of blood and if he doesn't make it, it'll crush Adam's heart. But if he does, he's going to look at himself every day and feel like he shouldn't exist. You know how he is about his appearance and everything from previous relationships. He's going to think Adam's not going to want him anymore because of what happened." I explained, feeling the ache in the back of my head expanding to between my eyes, making me irritated and worried all at the same time.

"You're right… But Adam's not like that." Brad commented, and I nodded once.

"Yeah. And Drake knows that, but right now, he's not going to be thinking that way. He's going to think he's worthless, hideous… It's gonna be our job to keep him, at least somewhat, happy until Adam comes home. And… It's gonna be a shock to Adam, but we both know how much he loves Drake…" I said, taking a long breath after finishing speaking. Brad nodded once, leaning across the arms and resting his head on my shoulder.

"Oh, shit, Cassidy…" Brad commented after a moment. I frowned, turning to look down at him. His face was blank and he seemed to be deep in thought.

"What, baby?" I asked, rubbing the back of his hand with my thumb, our fingers still laced together. He looked up at me before speaking.

"He's supposed to have an art show tomorrow…"


	3. I'm Disaster

**Chapter Three: I'm Disaster, I Have Yet to Be In It  
Brad's POV**

It was well into the morning before any doctor or nurse came to talk to us. Every passing minute was like another minute lost on a ticking time bomb and the longer we sat there, the more we started to fear the worst. Cassidy and I were exhausted, but we couldn't sleep. Images of Drake's mutilated face haunted us both and worry was spreading from Cassidy's right side, to my left.

"I'm ganna call Drake's manager. Let him know what happened, cause, obviously he can't do his art show today…" I mumbled, pulling away from Cassidy. He looked awful, pale with large bags under his eyes. I assumed I looked no better as I walked away from him to make the phone call. Drake had given both Cassidy and myself his work numbers, just in case we ever needed to get a hold of him and he wasn't answering his cell phone.

I dialed the number Drake had given me and pressed the phone to my ear. Several minutes later, a man answered, muttering a tired "Hello?" into the phone.

"Hi… This is Brad Bell, I'm one of Drake's friends," I said, leaning against a nearby wall and staring out the window, looking at the parking lot. The scene from last night, Drake being wheeled into the ER with an oxygen mask cupped over his bleeding face replayed behind my eyes and I had to fight off a sob.

"Oh, Drake's told me about you. What can I do for you, son?" he asked and I imagined he was an older gentleman.

Biting my lip, I tore my eyes away from the parking lot. "I needed to tell you that Drake isn't going to be able to make his art show today…" I mumbled quietly.

"What? Drake can't just miss his show, hundreds of people are scheduled to show up, probably more than that! He can't just not show up!" the man exclaimed but he didn't sound mean, just desperate.

"I… I know, I'm really sorry, but something bad happened last night. Drake was attacked and he's in the hospital. He's been in surgery for hours and we don't even know if he's-" I stopped, choking up a little at the idea of one of my best friends being dead. "We don't even know if he's going to pull through…" I finished, feeling like I might be sick.

There was a long silence on the other end of the line and, for a minute, I thought I had lost the connection. "Oh my God… Alright… I'll run his art show today, but let me know what's going on with him, please?" the man asked, practically begging for me to keep him posted which, of course, I agreed to. We said our goodbyes and I looked over at Cassidy, who was accompanied by a doctor. Shit!

I rushed back over to them. Cassidy wasn't crying, so I assumed Drake hadn't died. "What's going on?" I asked, putting an arm tight around Cassidy's torso. He leaned into me, seeming to want comfort. Baby…

The doctor smiled without happiness. "Drake's stable," he said quietly, his eyes looking tired and stressed, much like Cassidy's and probably my own did. I knew there was a "but" statement in there and I just wanted him to spit it out!

"But?" I prompted, so maybe the doctor would just spill the horrible news.

The man sighed deeply, looking away from us for a few seconds. "Drake's damage is… severe. He'll live but the scars won't fade and the damage is far too much to consider any type of reconstruction surgery. If we attempted that, Drake might, quite literally, lose that half of his face…" he said, sounding sad. I assumed he probably saw a lot of tragedy due to his profession. I knew, if I was him, I probably wouldn't be able to hand such a traumatic job.

Cassidy and I exchanged glanced of worry before looking up at the man again. "Has he woken up?" Cassidy asked, sounding just a little hopeful.

"He's awake right now. He just woke up and some good news has made itself know," the doctor said.

We both looked at him in disbelief. How the Hell could there be any good news in this situation? Drake has probably lost _all_ of his self esteem by now, not to mention the fear of being attacked again and probably the fear off never being loved again… How could there be _any_ amount of good news? "Like what?" I asked, sounding a little more cold than I had meant to. My normal happy, carefree demeanor was no where to me found and I didn't like it.

"Drake, despite that rather bad cut from his forehead, through his eye and down his face and next, can still see out of his right eye. He didn't lose any amount of his eyesight," the man said, a ghost of a smile forming around his lips.

I blinked, confused and I was sure Cassidy was feeling about the same. "If his eye was cut, how is that even possible?" Cassidy asked, his tone reassuring my idea of him being extremely confused.

"Well, the cut didn't start out very deep. At the top of the cut, it's hardly broken skin and as it goes down his face, it gets deeper. When the knife came down over his eye, it didn't actually cut into his eyeball, just the lid. If the knife had been as deep as it was on his neck, his would have probably lost the eye, but he's extremely fortunate in that respect," he answered/

I'd been holding my breath. Okay, that was pretty good news considering Cassidy and I had both been convinced that he would never see out of that eye again, but we knew Drake wouldn't see it that way. Drake would probably never get passed the fact that a stranger had ruined his face. "Can we see him?" I asked before I could really stop myself. Cassidy said it was our job to keep him happy until Adam came home from his tour and he definitely wasn't going to be happy if he was all alone in a hospital, with an aching, scarred face.

"Sure, but he's in a lot of pain despite the medication we've got him on, so just be cautious of that," the man said and waved his hand for us to follow him. Cassidy and I used each other for support as we walked. Both of us feared that, without the other, we wouldn't be able to keep ourselves standing, let alone be able to walk down a hall to the elevators.

The doctor took us up to the third floor, where they probably gave Drake his own room and once the elevator doors opened, he lead us down a long, almost eerie hall. We turned two corners before the doctor stopped at a gray door and pushed it open. "Call nurse aid if you two, or Drake, needs anything," the doctor said and then he left us. I was shaking again as Cassidy pulled me into the room.

Drake lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. On the right side of his face, starting under his eye, there was gauze completely covering up the wounds. Fortunately there were only a few, not so deep cuts on his forehead, so the medics didn't have to cover up all the right side of his face. His arm also had quite a large amount of gauze wrapped around it. From what I saw last night, the cut on his arm was pretty bad, but it wasn't nearly as horrible as the damage to his face…

"Drake?" Cassidy whispered, taking me over to the side of Drake's bed. With the gauze placed over the ruined side of his face, he just looked like Drake. Granted, he looked like he was in pain and he looked pretty miserable, but he just looked like Drake.

"Hey Cass…" he whispered, turning his head just slightly so his eyes fell on us instead of the ceiling. "Hey Brad." His voice was hoarse and he sounded like he could use a nice pitcher of water.

"Hey Baby…" I muttered quietly and I sat down on the edge of his bed with Cassidy. I took his hand gently in mine, rubbing my thumb over the back of it. "Glad to see you're awake. Cassidy and I were…"

"Terrified we'd lost you…" Cassidy finished, putting his hand down over mine, his thumb resting next to mine and moving in the same pattern across Drake's hand.

Drake sighed deeply, his eyes slipping shut. "I feel like I shouldn't be here…" Drake mumbled, sounding defeated and desperate. I can't say I really blamed him. If some psycho attacked me with a knife like that, I don't know if I would even be handling it as well as he was now, and he felt like he should have died…

"Baby, don't say that. Brad and I need you. Adam needs you. All of your friends and even your boss need you," Cassidy said, his hand closing over Drake's. God, the poor kid (yes kid, he was the youngest out of all of us).

Tears started pooling around Drake's closed eyes. "No, no he doesn't," Drake whispered miserably. Cassidy and I both knew that he was talking about Adam… "He doesn't need me, he's doing fine by himself right now and, once he sees my face, he's not going to need me. He's not even going to want me…" I could hear the pain in his tone and he truly believed that was true.

I wondered, did he even see his face yet?

"Drake, you know that isn't true. Adam loves you… He's not going to let this stop him from loving you. He's not going to look at you any differently than he did before he went on tour," I said, frowning a little. It hurt to know that Drake truly believed the man he was desperately in love with, would never want him again because of what had happened to him.

Tears spilled down Drake's cheeks at that, the tears on the right side soaking into the gauze covering his wounds. "How could anybody love someone who's so hideous?" he cried, keeping his eyes squeezed shut.

Cassidy reached out, putting a gentle hand on the left side of Drake's face. "Have you seen yourself yet? We don't know how bad it really is… It may not be bad at all…" he whispered, trying to reassure Drake that he wasn't completely disgusting, like he felt. Maybe he wouldn't be as beautiful as he was before, but it wasn't possible for Drake to be so unappealing. It just wasn't possible. I didn't believe it would ever be possible.

"No, I haven't seen myself. They put this gauze on my face before I woke up, but they told me… that the damage was so severe, cosmetic surgery wouldn't even help me," he said, his voice almost shaking. "What else could that possibly mean?"

Cassidy sighed and I leaned back into him. "Drake… Just because you've got scars… doesn't mean that you're disgusting to look at. I'm sure you aren't, baby… You're beautiful, you always will be," he whispered, and he stood up, going over to the other side of Drake's bed. "You'll always be beautiful and Adam will tell you the same thing, I know he will." With that, Cassidy pressed a kiss into his left cheek. "Adam will never let something like this keep him from loving you. You'll always be his boy, Drake. Always."

Drake was crying even harder at that. "He _already_ left me, now he won't ever come back," he said miserably and I bit my lip hard. He did have a point, but breaking it off with Drake just for a long enough time to do his tour was heart wrenching for him. He didn't want to break it off with Drake, but he just didn't think it was fair of him to expect Drake to sit around waiting for him to come back without the freedom to date and have a good time. Drake, of course, never went out on dates because he was so in love with Adam. He would have been willing to sit out the tour and wait for his lover to come back, but Adam wouldn't have that. Sad really, because that was exactly what Drake was doing now.

"Drake, you know he has every intention of coming back to be with you," I said, holding Drake's hand a little tighter.

Tears were still rolling down his cheeks and Cassidy kept wiping them away from his left cheek. "But he won't now. He won't want to be with me now…" he whispered and he opened his eyes, his blue eyes locking on me. He looked so sad and so hurt, it was hard not to look away from him, but I managed it.

"Baby, Adam loves you. He really does…" Cassidy whispered, pressing a kiss into the boy's hair. "You'll always be his boy…"


	4. All My Sorrows Pale To Insignificance

**Chapter Four: All my sorrows pale to insignificance**

**Drake's POV**

"Come on, Drake. Let's get inside," Cassidy muttered to me. I groaned softly, keeping my head down and the hood of my sweatshirt over my face. Despite the fact that the distance between the passenger side of the car and Cassidy's front door of his and Brad's condo, I was still taking extreme cautions about exposing myself to the public. I'd only just been released from the hospital after being in that white, bleach-clean hellhole for almost a month.

I stared down at the ground, feeling Cassidy's hand pressing itself between my shoulder blades. In a sense, he was guiding me to the front door, since I wasn't truly paying attention to where I was walking. I had no intention of looking up until I was, at least, inside the condo. I refused to do it, even if I had the hood up and completely covering my head and face.

For the past almost-month, Cassidy and Brad visited me as often as they could with their own lives and careers pressing into their backs. While I appreciated their company, I always had a nagging feeling that they did it out of sympathy for me. I didn't want sympathy, though. I didn't want false words of compassion. I wanted my fucking face back. I wanted that son of a bitch who attacked me to pay. But, also, I wanted to die.

They tried so hard to tell me that, once Adam got home, he'd accept what happened and he'd see past it. But I didn't believe any of it. Adam admitted that he liked pretty boys. And I wasn't pretty anymore. I was a horrible acid trip that ended in a train wreck. I wasn't something to behold. I wasn't something to be loved anymore. I felt like a useless and wasteful part of existence and, if it weren't for Brad and Cass' constant surveillance of me, I would have made sure I wasn't so useless anymore…

Cassidy unlocked the door, pushing it open and letting me walk inside. Even after walking deep into the living room and towards the spare bedroom that Cassidy had set up for me, I still didn't remove the hood from my head. I felt like, no matter where I was, I was being watched. As if there was someone waiting for me to remove it just so they could stop and stare at me like the freak that I was. I hated my life.

On top of all of this, my boss had been running my art shows for me. Brad told me that, the night I was attacked, he called my boss and told him what happened. And since then, he'd been taking care of everything for me. While I, again, appreciated the help, I felt like I was letting him down with everything. He'd done so much to get my art out there and to help me make it through the world, and now he was just doing everything for me. I felt like a failure.

I kicked my shoes off, leaving them by the edge of the bed before crawling under the covers. The hood was still pulled over my face as I curled into a ball, tucking the edge of the blanket under my chin. The room was dark, cold, almost uninviting. But this was to be my home for a while. Brad and Cassidy had said that, while they loved me dearly, they didn't trust me to be by myself until Adam came home. I'd told them not to worry so heavily on me. That, even when Adam _did_ come home, he wasn't going to want to be around me…

Lately, I'd been waiting for the slap to come from Brad or Cass every time I say that. I could always see it in their eyes that they wanted to.

I could hear Brad and Cassidy talking down the hall in the living room, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. Not that it mattered. I inhaled slowly through my nose, reaching up and trailing my fingers over the nearly-healed scars on my face. Highways of cross hatches and cuts over my cheek, lips and down to my neck. I felt the tears welling in my eyes and I couldn't stop them from falling into the blanket and sweatshirt.

Of all the people in this world— why me? Why did that guy have to attack me? Who could I've hurt so badly that he felt I needed equal punishment? I didn't remember ever attacking anyone so brutally or ever ruining someone's life to that degree. According to most everyone I'd ever met, I was sweet and kind hearted and amazing (adjectives courtesy of Cassidy and Brad). Who could I've hurt?

I choked on a soft sob, feeling my chest clench. I wanted to dig my nails into the right side of my face and just… I don't even know. I wanted to rip the scars off and turn them into something physical and strangle the man that had done this to me. But then that would turn me into the person that he accused me off. But _who could I have hurt?_

_Adam_.

It was barely there, a soft whisper in the back of my mind. But it made sense. He'd said I'd hurt _him_, and that I _deserved_ to suffer like he did. But didn't they all know? Didn't they hear that it was mutual? That he needed to focus on his career, which was skyrocketing through the stars above. He needed to focus on what he'd been working so hard for. And we both understood that. It was _mutual_!

More tears fell down my face as I curled into a tighter ball. My heart was aching in my chest, beating with poison and setting my body on fire with agony. I opened my eyes, staring across the bed. The doctor's had said it was a miracle that I could see at all through my right eye, considering the rest of the damage. Personally, I wish the whole thing would have blinded me entirely. Then I wouldn't have to see Adam's face when he comes home… I wouldn't have to see the shock and repulsion in his eyes like he was a fucking Etch-A-Sketch.

I choked, sobbing into the pillow. I hated this. I hated what had happened and I hated that everyone was giving me fucking sympathy for it. I wanted to wake up from all of this and be curled up into Adam's arms. I wanted to wake up and find my face clean of scars and clean of this memory…

"Drake?" Cassidy's voice poked into the room and I sniffled, trying to stop my tears. I knew that he'd heard me, but that wasn't my concern. I just wanted to be left alone so I could sleep and try to forget that any of this had happened. But there was a nagging feeling curling around my stomach that was saying I would never forget a second of this pain.

"Baby… Why are you crying?" Cassidy asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, facing my back. I sniffed again, turning away a little more from him. His hand rested on my shoulder, but he didn't pull me towards him. He just held me there, his palm warm through the sweatshirt.

"Why do you think, Cassidy?" I hissed through my tears, rubbing my nose on the sleeve of the sweatshirt. I normally wouldn't be caught _dead_ wearing something like this, but, in my situation, I just didn't give a flying fuck anymore.

"Baby, it's gonna be okay—" Cassidy began to say, but I didn't believe it. I didn't even want to hear it.

"Like _fuck_ it will, Cass!" I hissed, turning my head towards him. He flinched at my reaction, but his hand remained on my shoulder. "Like fuck it'll get better! It's not going to, so don't even lie to me." My voice was low, husky and dark. I felt Cassidy tense, but that didn't stop him from replying.

"Drake, you've gotta have a little faith—" I cut him off again, sitting up quickly and turning to face him.

"Fuck faith, Cassidy!" I growled, reaching up and ripping the hood off of my head, staring hard at Cassidy through tear filled eyes. "Do you _see_ my _face_, Cassidy? Do you _see it_?" He swallowed the lump in his throat, his eyes never leaving mine for a moment. "There is no hope for faith, there _is no_ getting better from this!" I exclaimed, taking a shaky breath before looking away from him. I was only seeing my face through the reflection of his eyes… I hated it…

"Drake, listen to me… Yeah, sure, the scars aren't going to go away, but that doesn't mean you have to give up on life itself. Baby, you think that this is going to keep you from being with Adam and you're wrong. He _loves you_…" I shook my head, pushing Cassidy's hand off of my shoulder.

"He left, Cassidy. He left for his music and when he comes back he's not going to want to take… He's not going to want a _freak_ for a boyfriend…" I hissed, my voice laced with venom as I spoke. Cassidy sighed softly, shifting closer to me.

"That's not true, Drake. Adam cares too much about you to just drop you. He won't care about how you look. He'll care that you're still you. That, on the inside, you're still Drake LaBry; a sweet, compassionate, and beautiful young man with so much going for him in life and so willing to try new things and go the distance for what he wants." I shook my head, drawing my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them, tucking my chin on top. Cassidy exhaled a long breath before shifting and putting an arm around my shoulders, pulling me to him.

"Why are you so adamant to believe that Adam's not going to love you and want you back?" Cassidy asked. I scoffed, rolling my eyes and looking away.

"Why are you so adamant to believe that I'm something worth loving?"

"Drake, it's not about how you _look_! Stop thinking like that." Cassidy turned me to face him, putting a hand on the right side of my face. I pulled out of his touch, not wanting the feel of his hands on that particular side of my face. But he reached out and held me on both sides, forcing me to look at him and endure the fact that he was touching the scars…

"These scars don't matter, Drake. You're still you. You're still a talented artist and designer. You're still an intelligent and amazing young man. You're still the love of Adam-fucking-Lambert's life!" Cassidy exclaimed, caressing the right side of my face and making circles into the damaged cheek. I clenched my jaw, frowning and refusing to look him in the eye. "You're so bent on believing that Adam only loves you for your face, and that's not true."

"But he, himself, admitted he likes pretty boys." I commented, still not looking up at Cassidy. He sighed, resting his forehead against mine for a long moment.

"Do you remember what Adam said his favorite physical feature about you was?" He asked. I frowned, trying to think back, but I just couldn't do it… I couldn't see past.. everything…

"He said he loves your eyes. Not your face. Not your body. Your _eyes_. And your eyes aren't damaged, which is a complete miracle." He pulled away, staring at me with tears shining and threatening to spill down his cheeks. I inhaled slowly, feeling my own tears building again. He was right, though…

"Please, Drake. Remember that he loves you. Remember that he'll always want to be with you." Cassidy said ever so softly. I bit down on my scarred lip and nodded once. He smiled, wiping away my tears and leaving a soft, friendly peck on the lips. He was no Adam when it came to gentle kisses, but it was still nice. His lips were warm, smooth.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, and I shook my head.

"I'm gonna get some sleep." I said. He nodded once, tilting my head down and kissing my forehead. Brad was often the one to leave the more sexual marks, but Cassidy was always one to give soft kisses or big, fat, warm hugs. He slid off of the bed and shuffled to the door, closing it behind him and leaving me in the darkness. I slid back down, snuggling under the blankets. The tears were still falling, and it felt like they would never stop.


	5. It's Gonna Get Better Tomorrow

**Chapter Five: You Can Always Say, It's Ganna Get Better Tomorrow  
Cassidy's POV  
**  
"What are we ganna do about him Cass? He won't do anything but stay in his room. He hardly even lets us see him! This can't be healthy for him… We know he isn't eating most of the food we take him. We've got to do something to help him…" Brad kept mumbling. Drake was asleep in his room, like he pretty much did every day.

It had been nearly two weeks since we brought him home from the hospital and he hadn't left the apartment at all. He hardly even came out of his room. He only did when he felt the need to shower or use the restroom and the occasional force out by Brad or myself. Worry for that boy was high on mine and Brad's priority list. Every time we saw him, he was paler than the last time, skinner. Soon he would literally become a phantom (ha, Phantom of the Opera… Oh geez, that wasn't funny…)

"I know Brad, I know!" I exclaimed. We'd been discussing Drake a lot lately and it was always the same conversation. "I know we need to do something, but he won't talk to either of us. I think the only person he _would_ talk to is also the person he believes will never love him again. Not to mention, said person is on the other side of the planet right now." Taking care of Drake was much harder than we first anticipated…

We told ourselves it was our job to keep Drake happy and healthy until Adam came home. Adam would be the only person to truly heal his heart and until the glam star came back, Drake would always be in pain. He'd have no escape from the fear of Adam's rejection until Adam came home and told him how much he still loved him, regardless of the attack. However, we didn't exactly think Drake would fall into a depression to match all other depressions. We thought that as the days and weeks went on, he would begin to cheer up, be a little more positive and a little more outgoing.

Brad and I were so sure we would be able to cheer Drake up and make him a little more comfortable with what had happened before Adam came home. Since Drake woke up in the hospital, we believed it was only getting worse for him and we were ultimately failing at our jobs.

I was not willing to accept that. We needed to do _something_.

Brad sighed, sinking down into my lap before he continued our discussion. "We at least need to make him eat something, Cass… You saw how small he's gotten since he got out of the hospital," he whispered. Sure, Drake probably only lost ten, fifteen pounds max, but that was a significant amount of body mass for Drake. Most people would have been ecstatic to lose fifteen pounds in two weeks but Drake was already so thin. He was barely in the 'healthy' weight range before. Now he was slipping into the 'why the fuck aren't you eating? You aren't anything _close_ to fat!' range.

He looked sick and he didn't seem to care. He looked like he would wither away if he kept up this unhealthy habit of doing nothing but sleeping. "We have to get him out of that room, Brad… We need to make him see what he's doing to himself and we have to show him that he's something still worth being with. When he sees himself, all he looks at it the right side of his face. He doesn't see anything else and we need to show him that, despite the scars, he is a beautiful and talented person," I said firmly.

"And how do you suppose we do that, Cass? He won't even leave his room! He hardly even lets us see him!" he exclaimed.

I sighed. I was at my breaking point. I couldn't take much more of this. I would _not_ stand by and watch one of my best friends kill himself. Not anymore. I've been doing it for two weeks and I'm _done_.

"Get up," I ordered as kindly as an command could be. Brad blinked in confusion before slowly sliding off of my lap.

"Cass, what are you-" he began to ask but I was already headed down the hall towards Drake's bedroom. He stayed in our guest room, across the hall from mine and Brad's room. Needless to say, Brad and I have not had many passionate nights since Drake moved in. One, we were just too worried about the boy and two, it was awkward for him to be able to hear us so openly.

I didn't knock, I just pulled the door open and walked over to Drake's bed. He was laying on his side, with his back to the door. He'd gotten into the habit of sleeping this way. I knew he didn't used to sleep like that, because we've all had plenty of sleepovers, as juvenile as that sounds. I suspected that he started sleeping that way to hide his face as much as possible.

"Drake?" I said, grabbing the boy's shoulder and shaking him gently. He groaned but didn't wake up. Of course he's a heaver sleeper. He would have to be to be able to share a bed with Adam every night. The man didn't snore, but he talked in his sleep a lot and he never stayed in one position. "Drake, wake up!" I half shouted, shaking a little harder. He gasped, jerking out of my touch and up into a sitting position.

His hair had grown very long (for Drake) over the course of his hospital stay and the last two weeks of not doing anything. It curtained around his face, hiding some of the worst scars behind the chocolate locks. "Drake, get up. You're not staying in this room for the rest of your life." His ocean eyes went wide as he stared up at me.

"Cass…" he began but I was done letting him feel sorry for himself. He still had a life to live and he could still make that life wonderful if he would just let it happen. I was not going to sit back and watch him ruin everything he worked so hard to get.

"No Drake, no more excuses. No more laying in here, crying because you think you aren't a person anymore. No more not eating and no more avoiding everybody. I promised Adam I would take good care of you before he left and that is a promise I have every intention of keeping," I said sternly. "Now get up. Get dressed in _real_ clothing, not these sweats that you swore you would never wear and now seem to live in. You're going out today." It wasn't a suggestion. I left no room for argument.

"Cassidy… I really don't want to… I can't…" he whispered. That was the last straw. I grabbed him by the forearm and pulled him out of the bed. He tried to pull away from me but the hospital stay and his lack of doing anything since then left him frail and weak. "Cass…" I just pulling him into my bedroom. Sitting next to the dresser was a full body mirror and I took him over to it, forcing him to stand in front of me.

"What do you see Drake?" I asked him, but his eyes were locked on the floor. He didn't want to look in the mirror. He avoided them as if his life depended on it, but he was going to look today. "Look at the mirror, Drake," I said, nudging him gently.

"No…" he whimpered, tears beginning to grace the rims of his eyelids.

I took his chin gently into my hand and forced him to look up, straight at the mirror. His eyes were wide for a moment before he squeezed them shut. "Cassidy please…" he begged. I covered the right side of his face with my hand and pulled the hair back out of his left.

"Open your eyes, Drake," I said sternly and, to my amazement, he did it. He stared at the mirror, seeing a tall, thin boy who was a little paler than he should have been and heavy rims under his eyes, but otherwise beautiful. "See? Drake, you aren't a different person because of what happened. You're still beautiful. You need to realize that part of your face does not make up who you are. You are beautiful in so many ways and you are letting this-" I moved my hand away from his face. "Stop you from seeing who you are."

He cringed, but amazingly he didn't look away. "Yes Drake, what happened was awful, but it didn't ruin your life. It's only going to ruin your life if you let it," I whispered, pressing a kiss into his hair. He showered this morning and it still smelled like the vanilla shampoo he loved to use. "And when Adam comes home from tour, he's going to tell you the exact same thing. He's going to tell you that you are beautiful and you are far too talented to waste your life in an apartment."

Drake whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. "Cassidy, if I go outside, everyone will treat me differently. Everyone will look at me like I'm a monster," he whispered, opening his eyes again. "I don't want people to see me like that…"

"Drake, baby, nobody is going to see you that way. Yes, you have scars from a horrible event, but they are there because you _lived_ through that suffering." Tears began to flow easily down his cheeks. "Yes, you have scars, but you see them worse than anybody else. Yes, they are there but they aren't worth throwing your life away for, and they aren't going to change anything about you, including your beauty, unless you let them.

He started shaking with tears and he turned around, wrapping his arms around my neck. My arms settled snuggly around his waist, holding him close while he cried into my shoulder. "I… I'm sorry, Cass…" he whispered, his arms tightening tightly around me. I just held him there, letting him cry for a while.

"Baby, I can't image how hard this is for you, but you have got to realize that this has not destroyed you. But you are… destroying your life right now. Can't you see what you're doing to yourself?" I asked, my hands sliding from his hips up his sides. "You're losing too much weight from not eating. Your body is literally eating itself because you aren't eating and you aren't doing anything. You're getting weak and look at how pale you are. What happened to that sexy, Cajun skin, huh?"

"I…." he began, his fingers curling tightly into my hair. "I know I haven't been doing what's best for myself I just…"

"No, Drake," I whispered, my hands coming up to cup his cheeks. "No more excuses, okay? You need to get better because you are killing yourself right now. Adam will be devastated if he comes home to find you starving yourself. Please, baby… You need to recover from this." I started wiping his tears away with my thumbs and I forced him to look up at me. "You need to start eating again and you need to get out of this condo."

He bit his lip, seeming really uneasy about the notion of leaving the condo. "Cassidy, I… I don't think I can…" he whispered.

"It isn't a matter of can and can't, Drake. It isn't healthy to be cooped up inside all the time. You've seen those shows were people are locked up in a room all the time, isolated from everything. It's just as bad as not eating," I said, still stroking his cheeks, smooth and scarred. "Please come out with Brad and I tonight. We'll have some dinner, have a little fun. It'll be a good time and I'll show you that these scars are not ruining everything for you. You can still have fun and do the things you love to do." He looked like he wanted to protest, deny my request, but I wouldn't stand for it. "Please, Drake? Please?"

He took a shaky breath, his eyes staring at mine before he glanced away. "Alright Cass…" he whispered and I simply smiled, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Excellent, now go dig out some of your actual clothing. By that I mean skinny jeans, a cute tank and a plaid shirt or something. No sweats, at all," I said, still holding him in my arms. He sighed but agreed, not that I was giving him much of a choice. Drake needed to get better and the best way to start was to start acting like he normally would have. Not like he has been recently. That included the way he dressed.


	6. It's A Struggle, Gotta Rumble

**Chapter Six: Baby, tonight it's a struggle, gotta rumble…**

**Brad's POV**

Cassidy sighed heavily when he came back from the other end of the apartment. I frowned at him, tilting my head to the side as I pushed off from the edge of the couch, meeting him in the middle of the living room. I reached up, palming his face delicately in my right hand, my thumb massaging circles into his cheek. Cassidy looked tired but pleased with himself, and that only led me to believe that he'd succeeded in what he was trying to get Drake to do.

"What happened?" I asked softly, and Cassidy just shook his head in my hand, smiling warmly as he brought his up to cover mine, leaning forward to press a kiss to my lips.

"I got him to see that what happened isn't the end of the world," he whispered against my mouth, "and we're going out tonight, so go get dressed." He smirked, kissing me again before grabbing my shoulders and spinning me around, turning me towards our bedroom. I could see the door to Drake's room closed, and I assumed that he was in there, planning his own outfit.

"Baby, I need a shower…" I chuckled, turning my head to look back at him. There was a kind of glint in his eye that sent a shiver down my spine. Cassidy bent his head, dragging a warm, wet kiss against my neck. My eyes rolled into the back of my head, a soft moan bubbling in the back of my throat, "Baby…" I whispered.

Cassidy's hands took hold of mine, and he pulled me in the direction of the bathroom, nudging the door open with his shoulder. I giggled softly as he tugged me into the small space, slamming the door shut with his foot before he pressed me against the wall, kissing my neck sweetly. I tilted my head back, moaning quietly as Cassidy fumbled to reach the water nozzle on the wall, turning it to the left to start the hot water.

His lips returned to mine, kissing me tenderly as his tongue slid between my teeth. I moaned, reaching up to run fingers through his crop-cut hair, my other hand sliding under his tank-top. He shivered into my touch, deepening the kiss as we fumbled to strip each other of our pajamas.

Once we were undressed, Cassidy dragged me under the hot spray of water, kissing me hard while he cupped my face in his hands. I moaned against his lips, my heart racing in my chest as my arms linked themselves around his waist, pulling him closer to me. Part of me felt kind of dirty and bad that we were doing this when Drake was just across the hall and missing his own lover like hell, however… Cassidy and I were always very intimate people, and being unable to have that intimacy was starting to eat at us.

I pushed Cassidy up against the shower wall, as gently as I could, as I nipped at his neck, "Baby, the things I could do to you…" I mumbled, soft enough that only Cassidy would be able to hear me. He smirked, dipping his head and kissing me again, water passing between our lips into our mouths.

"So do it…" He whispered into my mouth, forcing another soft moan from my throat. God, I wanted to. I wanted to do so many things to him in so many different places, but with Drake living with us, we never did anymore. One, it was disrespectful, and two, Drake had become our priority to take care of until Adam got home.

"Baby, you know I want to…" I whined softly, dragging a hot, wet kiss against his chest. Cassidy tilted his head back, groaning softly. We had to be quiet, and that was hard for us since we were bother rather vocal people.

"Do it, Brad… I can be quiet." I glanced up at Cassidy, staring hard into his beautiful brown eyes. I shivered slightly, kissing him again before letting my hands wander, dragging my nails through his soaked skin. Cassidy arched up into my touch, groaning softly before quieting himself again. I left the barest of butterfly kisses against his chest, inching lower and lower until I dropped to my knees before him.

* * *

"Baby, hurry up. I swear, you take longer than most women when it comes to getting ready!" Cassidy called from the living room. I rolled my eyes, smoothing my red tank top over my stomach before walking out of our room and down the hall to where Cass and Drake were waiting.

My hair was spiked up slightly, a thin, shear red scarf tied around my neck. The red tank hung loose off my frame, black skinnies flush tight against my thighs, accented with black leather ankle boots. Rusted and smoky eye shadow graced my eye lids, along with a nice, thick application of eyeliner and the barest hints of gloss. Sure, I looked pretty girly, but I could make it work.

I smiled sweetly at Cass and Drake, making it innocent and apologetic. Drake just rolled his eyes, turning his head away to, no doubt, hide the scars. But, to be honest, I hadn't really noticed them. Between his hair growing out enough to hide them, not to mention the makeup job he'd given himself, he looked like he always used to, just a little paler and shaggier in the hair. He was wearing a dark blue tank top underneath a skin tight fishnet shirt, grey skinny jeans and black and white Converse. His eyes were lined with thin liner, dusted with some deep, sea blue shadow. He looked utterly beautiful, and, if Adam had been here, I was sure the glam star would have been all over him in a heartbeat.

Cassidy was on the other end of the color spectrum, but very neutral and cool. His leather pants were a nice, rich chocolaty brown, accented with a light brown tank top beneath a black leather coat with the sleeves rolled up around his elbows. Black leather, fingerless gloves clung to his hands, his hair done up nicely with bits of gel holding it in short, cute spikes.

"Sorry. It takes a while to look good, you know," I commented with a gentle smile and it was Cassidy's turn to roll his eyes. Drake didn't move, nor did he seem to react to my statement. I sighed softly, walking over to him before gently running my fingers through his soft, beautiful brown hair.

"Drake, you okay, honey?" I asked him, tucking a finer under his chin and forcing him to meet my eyes. Truly, you could hardly tell that he'd been hurt at all. Sure, the scars were there, but they were not the big deal that Drake made them out to be. His eyes wavered back and forth for a moment before he looked away again.

"I'm not sure that I can do this…" He whispered softly, his chin trembling. I frowned, wrapping my arms around him, holding him close. I didn't want him to cry, and while I, also, didn't want to put him through anything he was uncomfortable with, he needed this. He needed to get out of this apartment. He was killing himself here and I wasn't going to stand by and watch him throw his life away.

"You can, baby. You look beautiful. Besides, we're going to a club. Clubs are, mostly, dark. Anyone who'd be able to see them would have to be pressing their dick into your thigh, and we're not gonna let them get that close," I chuckled, and a small smile pulling at his paled lips. "Come on, baby. You'll be fine."

Drake lifted his head a little, looking me in the eye before nodding once, smiling a little more this time. I grinned, turning my attention to Cassidy before holding my hand out to take his. He smiled at me, taking mine as I looped my arm around Drake's waist, pulling them both towards the front door of the apartment.

Slipping out into the warm California air, Cassidy locked the apartment behind us as Drake and I made our way to the car. I slid into the back seat while Drake took shotgun, and Cassidy slipped into the driver's seat, shutting the door with a soft bang before starting the car. I smiled, buckling in while leaning forward to wrap my arms around Drake and his seat. The boy laughed softly, but it sounded forced.

Cassidy messed with the stereo after pulling out of the parking spot, and in a few short clicks, I hear the familiar drum beats that seemed to make Drake freeze in his seat. The synthetic beats made way for a dance-y tune that had me grooving in my place while Adam's cool, rich and beautiful voice filled the interior of the car. _So I got my boots on, got the right amount of leather…_

It took Drake a little while to seem to get comfortable with the fact that Adam's song was playing in the stereo, but eventually he was dancing in his seat, singing along with myself and Cassidy as we drove towards downtown L.A., the hotspot for all the best night clubs and gay bars. Lights were flashing and people lined the streets in lace, lace and glitter, walking to and from club to club.

Eventually, Cassidy pulled up beside a promising looking club before killing the engine and locking the doors when we got out. Cassidy pocketed the keys before taking my hand in his while I looped my arm through Drake's, pulling him close. Being out in public made him timid and cautious, like a cat in a new environment. He kept his head low, barely peeping through the curtains of his hair as we passed into the front doors of the club.

Together, Cassidy and I pulled Drake through the club, the music pulsing in our ears and, almost, instantly making us go deaf. Lights were flashing, but the interior was dark enough that no one would be able to immediately see anything different about Drake. Not that it mattered. The intention was to get him out of the apartment and to get him to see that no one was going to care what he looked like. He just had to own his scars instead of letting them own him…

"Do you wanna stay together or do you wanna wander on your own?" Cassidy shouted over the music to Drake. He looked afraid at first, but I could see in his eyes that he was anxious to break free and feel normal again. Though I knew that he was going to have a hard time accomplishing that at first with the way he felt about himself. The boy didn't feel attractive anymore, despite the fact that he _clearly_ was… It was going to be a struggle.

Drake seemed to press himself a little closer to me as we neared the bar, and I figured that, maybe after a drink or two, he'd be okay. I turned to a tender, ordering three shots of tequila before turning back to Drake, smiling warmly at him. He looked like he wanted to curl up into a ball and just ignore everyone. Poor baby.

The tender passed the shots to us and I paid him, holding one out to Drake. He looked a little skeptical but I just rolled my eyes and forced it into his hand before downing my own shot, Cassidy following with a moment of hesitation. Drake eyed us both for a moment before inhaling, downing his shot with a grimace on his mouth as he set the glass down on the counter. I smiled at him, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the right side of his face. He flinched under my touch.

"Relax Drake, have a little fun, alright? That's what we're here for, after all," I told him with another smile, grabbing him by the shoulders. I turned him in a half-circle before shoving him into the throng of people, watching as they swept him away like a tide.


	7. You Always Told Me I Would Lose

**Chapter Seven: You Always Told Me I Would Lose, Well, Look At Me Now  
Drake's POV**

Going into the club made me feel sick. I literally wanted to turn around, walk back outside into the warm LA night and throw up. But I knew Cassidy and Brad were not going to let me out of this, probably until I had a good time or totally broke down. I was hoping the second didn't happen tonight or… any night really, but I felt like when anyone looked at me, they were staring at the scars on my face. That was ridiculous, considering my hair, my makeup and the shitty lighting in this place concealed them totally.

Still, I couldn't shake the feeling of constant judgment and people looking down at me like I was some sort of freak. When Brad turned me away from him and Cassidy and shoved me into the sea of people dancing, drinking and doing God only knew what else, I wanted to march back over to him and punch him in the face. But the mob of people sucked me in towards the center of the club. I couldn't even see the bar or Cassidy and Brad anymore. Those fuckers.

Before we had left the condo, Brad said that the only way anyone was going to notice anything different about me was if they were close enough to have their dicks pressed into my thigh. They both promised that wouldn't happen, but I couldn't actually keep track of how many people grinded up against me, grabbed my hips for a two-second attempt at thrusting into my back side and pressed up against me like we were dating. I even had a few boys come up to me, kiss me and then dance off to do the same to other people. I assumed those were the ones who were exceptionally drunk.

My head was pounding after the first five minutes of wandering through the crowd. In reality, I was more being pushed into some people and pulled against others. I didn't really have any control over where my body was going or who was pressed up against it. None of them tried to rape me or anything, so I really couldn't get that upset about any of it. This was club life.

A few years ago, this would have scared the shit out of me. I was just a skinny twink from New Orleans. I didn't go out clubbing very often and any club you could find there was more like LA-Club-Kindergarten. A few years ago, coming out to a club in LA- gay or straight- was really fucking intense. It was a huge rush and it was shocking to see people having close-to-sex in public, but now it was all second nature.

"Hey," I heard someone shout over the music. In a club, you had to shout to hear anyone or the music would carry whatever you said into oblivion. At first, I really didn't register the "hey" as anything at all. There were a thousand people shouting "hey" to the people next to them for now reason. But then I felt a tug on my arm and I turned to face a man who was slightly taller than me, about Adam's height, and had a beautiful face.

He wasn't nearly as beautiful as Adam, but he was a real heartbreaker, I was sure. His skin was tanned, looking like he spent a lot of time in the sun. His build was larger than mine, kind of like Cassidy, enough to be a _nice_ body without being _too much_. His smile was pearly white and dazzling and his hair was a striking red color. Not many men could pull off such a bright color, but he wore it well. His wore tight, black skinnies and a black tank to match. Simple, sexy…

I wanted to see Adam in that outfit, pulling me out of a sea of people.

"Hey," I said back. Really, I was shouting but that was normal, like I said. He smiled warmly at me, showing a smile that could, possibly, outshine the sun. I couldn't fight the blush that spread across my cheeks. He hooked his arm with mine and pulled me out of the crowd. He wasn't afraid to be pushy when he needed to be, like Adam, so we managed to emerge from the mosh of dancing and sex rather quickly.

Suddenly it was much quieter and the pounding in my head began to subside. He took me back towards the bar before he let go of me and we sat together at one end. Yeah, it was strange in everyday life, but at a gay bar? Shit like this was pretty normal, I just hoped he didn't get to close…

"You're Drake LaBry, right?" he asked, motioning for the bar tender to come serve him. I blinked, eyeing him for a moment. A lot of people knew me because of my relationship with Adam, but I never got used to people identifying me so easily. Who'd think, after dating Adam for so long and being friends with people like Brad and Cassidy, I would be used to it, but I wasn't. I don't think I'll ever be used to it.

"Erm… yeah…" I muttered. After that man attacked me on the street, I was wary to admit to being who I was. "That's me," I added after a moment. The tender came over, asking what we wanted. I shook my head but the man sitting with me insisted on buying me a drink. In the end, we ended up ordering some fruity drinks I'd never heard of before. Where I come from there's whisky, beer and martinis if you're feeling really adventurous.

"I thought so. I read about you on the internet," he said once the tender left to make us our drinks. I frowned, wondering what kind of awful media things he'd read about me. Or worse, when people put me in their fan fiction shit. Do yourself a favor if you ever find yourself dating a famous person; don't Google your name. You'll regret it.

"O-Oh," I said, uneasily, staring at the wood counter of the bar so I didn't have to look at him. Thankfully he was sitting on my left side, so he couldn't really see the right side of my face unless I turned to let him.

He laughed softly, shaking his head. "I read about your art, I suppose I should say. I was looking up interior designers in LA because I just moved into a new house and was hoping to have it decorated professionally. Your name came up and when I started looking at your interior design work, I found your art work as well," he said, taking a deep breath in. "I think it's amazing…" I blushed again, looking over at him. It was rare for people to know me _for_ my art. It was always 'Adam Lambert's boyfriend this' and 'Adam's ex-boyfriend that'.

"I… Well… thank you," I said, smiling at him. The tender returned with two orange-pink drinks and the man I was with paid. I took mine in my hands, thanking him quietly. I was honestly just relieved to have something to fiddle with so I didn't seem so on edge.

"Oh, I'm sorry, it's so weird for me to know exactly who you are and you don't even know my name," the man laugh and his laugh even sounded like Adam's. Fucking Hell… "I'm Mark Branco," he said, holding his hand out to me as if we were being professional. I shook it, even if I felt it was silly for a bar. "I'm an artist too."

"Really?" I asked, turning to him a little, but careful to keep most of the right side of my face out of sight. "What kind of projects do you work on?" I was suddenly a _lot_ more interested in spending some time with this guy.

"Sculpting mostly," he said. "I dabble in paints, but I'd never be able to paint things that you do. I went up to the art museum a few weeks ago, saw the display you have there. It was fantastic. People keep telling me that you have open art shows but I haven't been able to find info about new ones," he said, sounding disappointed. I frowned a little, sipping at the drink to cover it up. The alcohol was strong and it pulled my throat, but I liked it enough to order it again. "Do you still do art shows?"

"Well," I started, frowning a little. "I was in… an accident a few months ago and it's been… a hard recovery. This is the first time I've really gotten out since it happened, but yes, I'll be organizing more art shows in the future," I told him. He stared at me for a while.

"Is that what the cuts on your face are from?" he asked kindly. "I'm sorry to be nosy, I'm just a little curious. All of the pictures of you with that Adam fellow and stuff didn't show those. They aren't very noticeable but…" When I turned away from him, he stopped talking. I felt my eyes water a little. "I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it, I'm sorry," he said, reaching over to put a hand on my shoulder. I looked back at him, staring into his deep blue eyes. "They don't make you look bad or anything."

He brought his other hand up to gently run his fingers over the right side of my face. I flinched a little but didn't pull back. Maybe this is what I needed? Someone besides Brad or Cassidy to tell me that these scars didn't ruin me. He smiled at me, cupping the right side of my face in his hand, stroking his thumb across the scars. "They don't make you look bad at all," he said again and I was beginning to wonder just how interested in me this guy really was.

I couldn't really have a relationship with him when Adam would be home in a couple of months. But would Adam really want me back? Sure, we broke up, but it was more of a mutual understanding that Adam would be back and we would be together again. After what had happened, of which I still hadn't told Adam even though we talked as often as he could manage with his schedule, I still wasn't completely convinced he'd want me.

But I couldn't just give up on that before he even got home…

"I'm… glad you think so because sometimes I'm not really convinced," I told him and he frowned, standing from his chair.

"Any man in here would love to dance with you. I saw how some of them touched you and kissed you while you were out there dancing. You're still a catch," he said, holding his hand out to me. "Will you dance with me, Drake? I promise not to molest you like half of the crowd did earlier." I blushed wildly, some of it hiding behind makeup but still extremely visible.

He smiled as I took his hand and he pulled a little ways away from the bar but not right back over to the crowd. I glanced back at our drinks. I'd been so nervous, I didn't even realize that I'd almost finished mine. He wrapped his arms around my waist, his hands resting on the small of my back. I wrapped my arms around his neck and leaned into him, swaying with a kind of slow song.

We danced for a while. His hands slowly slipped lower, but I really didn't notice. It was just nice to be treated like a person. We weren't doing anything wrong, so I had nothing to feel bad about.

His hands were cupped over my back side when I felt someone tap my shoulder. I turned my head to find Brad and Cassidy standing there. Mark let go of me, probably thinking they were trying to cut in, or something. "Hey guys…" I mumbled, slightly miffed that they'd interrupted our dancing in the first place. Sure we were close but we weren't, really, doing anything but dancing.

"Hey, um, who's your friend?" Brad asked, eyeing Mark before turning to me. I frowned at him, letting my arms fall to my sides.

"This is Mark. He's an artist, like me," I told him, smiling softly. Brad and Cass would understand that we're just dancing right? Of course they would… They were the ones who wanted me to fucking do this in the first place.

"Ah, that's… nice," Brad said, taking my hand in his. "Can I barrow you for a minute? Just a sec," he added, looking at Mark. "It'll just take a second. You don't mind, do you?"

Mark shook his head, though I could see the sadness in his eyes. Brad tugged me away with Cassidy on my other side. "Drake, we realize you're having a good time and, that's great. We're glad that you're enjoying yourself… It's just…"

"Just what, Brad?" I cut in, crossing my hands over my chest.

"We just… that guy really seems to like you and we don't want you to forget about Adam… He'd be crushed if he came home and found out you had a new boyfriend, or something," Brad said gently, trying very hard to make his words as harmless as possible.

"You don't honestly think I'm looking at him the way I look at Adam? I've been thinking about Adam all night. That's just some guy I met on the dance floor and he was interested in my art," I huffed, frowning fiercely at the pair.

"Drake… I think he's interested in a little more than that," Cassidy said after being silent for most of the time. "He's clearly interested in you. He wouldn't have been… holding you the way he was if he wasn't interested."

I stared at the pair for a long time, frowning as much as I possibly could. "Okay? Even if he's interested, don't you think I have some sort of self control? I'm not going to hop into bed with the first guy who tells me I'm beautiful, alright? I'm not forgetting about Adam. I _wish_ Adam was here right now, but he isn't!" I said, my hands falling down onto my hips.

"Honey… we're not saying you don't have self control, but we know that you want to feel normal again and right now he's helping you to feel normal. And fuck does he want you," Brad commented, glancing back at Mark.

"No, he doesn't, Brad. Just because he's a nice guy doesn't mean he wants to pull me into bed with him," I said, though, after feeling up my ass for quite some time, that was hard to justify. "He probably wouldn't want to have sex with me anyway, considering I'm not very attractive anymore."

Cassidy and Brad glanced at each other. They both looked like they wanted to punch me in the face but, to be honest, I was starting to feel the same way about them. "Drake… That isn't true. We went over this today in the bedroom. That boy clearly wants to be more than your friend, whether that's for an actual relationship or just one fuck, I don't know…" Cassidy said softly, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"So, you both think what exactly? That he's in need of a fuck and I was easy picking?" I asked. Looking back on that, I realized that my reaction was blowing things way out of proportion, but I was dealing with a few shots of alcohol and whatever it was that Mark had bought for me. I didn't handle alcohol well at all, so it was already distorting my perception of things.

"No, Drake, absolutely nothing like that at all…" Cassidy muttered, trying to mend his pervious words. "We're just concerned, that's all. We know you're in a delicate state of mind right now and…"

"That I'm desperate for someone besides you two to love me?" I suggested. I wasn't really angry anymore, I was starting to feel like maybe Mark had been using me and that made me depressed. One, because he was such a fucking nice guy and two, because that meant everything he said to me was a lie. I didn't want to believe it, but the image I had of myself kind of made me believe that it was possible…

I glanced back at Mark, who was leaning against the bar, waiting for me to come back. "Drake… We just know you aren't feeling your best right now and someone besides your friends telling you things that make you feel better is important to you. We're not saying that he's using you or anything else… We're just worried about you and Adam, that's all," Brad said, putting his hands on my shoulders. "We're just worried…"

"Don't be. I'm not interested in him," I said, feeling the soft sting of tears beginning to form. I didn't want to think about Adam as much as I fucking was. I couldn't ever stop thinking about him but now it was worse and I was even more afraid of his rejection. "I'm terrified enough of Adam not wanting me anymore, I don't need to be afraid of every other boy who glances in my direction," I added, feeling a little less than okay.

They both sighed. "Do you want to go home, Drake?" Cassidy asked and I looked up at him. "We can leave if you want, or we can stay, it's up to you."

"I…" I blinked. "Let's just go. This isn't worth it anymore," I said, pushing past them to go out to the car. I couldn't really explain why tears were beginning to roll down my cheeks but they were and I felt miserable. All I wanted to do was leave this place, take some medicine for the headache that was reforming and sleep until I was dead or something.

"Do you want to say goodbye?" Cassidy asked.

I didn't look back at him. "No," I called back, pushing through the crowd to get back out to the car.


	8. But It Started With An Alright Scene

**Chapter Eight: I Hate The Ending, Myself, But It Started With An Alright Scene**

**Cassidy's POV**

Watching Drake storm out of the club punched a hole into my heart. It had never been intention to upset him… And, I knew, it wasn't Brad's intention, either. We just wanted him to go out and have a good time; to forget about what had happened to him months ago and to remember that he was still a person and he could still be valued and loved like everyone else.

But we'd, obviously, neglected to considering someone other than us— or Adam— entering the equation of Drake's happiness.

Part of me had this nagging fear, deep in my stomach, that something— anything— was going to go wrong. Someone was going to call Drake hideous; someone was going to stare; someone was going to make a scene; someone was going to make him feel uncomfortable; someone was going to get too close to him. So many concerns, fears, worries, uncertainties and insecurities were piling themselves on me that I didn't register Brad's reassuring hand on my shoulder.

"Cassdidy?" Brad shouted over the music, pulling me from my haze. I blinked once, looking over in his direction, things clicking back into reality as if a switch had been flipped within me. My motions were mechanical at first, but my mind had ceased, thankfully, in its worry. Even if, only, for a few moments.

"Relax, baby. He'll be fine," Brad said, well, shouted, to me. His hand gently squeezed my arm before sliding away and I smiled softly at him before staring down at the drink in my hands. I wanted to believe it. I really, really did, but I couldn't have been sure.

For months we had been trying to get Drake to realize that he was still himself and that he was still beautiful. We had to fight with him to get him dressed and willing to leave the apartment and now I wasn't so sure that, after all of our attempts, this was a good idea. I wanted to believe that Drake was capable of handling himself, but there was a boiling uneasiness in my stomach… Drake, in a sense, had become my top priority since his attack. It had been mine and Brad's job to take care of him until Adam came back.

Adam… That was another issue. Brad and I, still, neglected to inform Adam of Drake's condition. The fact that his attack had, in a sense, left him rather emotionally unstable. His self-esteem and confidence had plummeted to rock bottom and it was more than aggravating trying to convince him of anything promising.

I knew that we would, eventually, have to break the news to Adam. We couldn't very well just let him come home, expecting to see Drake throwing himself into his arms and finding his lover in a dark apartment room with half of his faced scarred over and so afraid of rejection that it was almost frightening. It would hurt Adam… I knew he wouldn't forgive us if he came home and found out that we failed our job in taking care of him..

"Cassidy?" Brad's hands were on my face and I blinked again, glancing at him. He frowned softly, reaching down to pull my drink from my hands before setting it on the bar. I hadn't touched it much, but I didn't care. It was cheap and it wasn't doing anything for me, so why bother with it? "Baby, come on… We're supposed to be having fun," he told me, and I nodded once. I knew that, it was just hard…

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck before scanning across the crowds of people. Part of me wanted to smack Brad on the back of the head for shoving Drake into the swarms of people, because now we'd never be able to find him without diving in headfirst, ourselves. But club-crowds had a funny way of sucking people in and then spitting them back out again.

I bit down on my bottom lip, something in the back of my mind telling me to look away from the crowds and look more around the bar. I sighed again, letting my eyes wander as I searched for Drake's overgrown brown hair and innocent appearance. Surprisingly, it didn't take long to locate him. He was, in fact, by the bar, across the way from where Brad and I were awkwardly swaying to the beat of the techno-y song.

Another thing that caught my attention, aside from the half-finished drink in his hands, was that Drake wasn't alone.

I frowned, nudging Brad with my hand. In my peripheral, he glanced up at me before following my gaze and finding Drake, standing with some other man. The man, himself, wasn't too bad on the eyes. Decent, beautiful in his own right, though nothing to Adam or Drake— even with scars.

Broad, tanned shoulders were exposed beneath a slim, form-fitting black tank top, accented with a pair of black skinnies. The man looked to be similar in height and build to me with brilliant, fire-like red hair. He was leaning against the bar, facing Drake with a kind of smile that I would give to Brad. That enchanted and intrigued sort of smile with just the right touch of interest to want to venture further, forward.

Brad tensed beside me and I knew that he understood the look on this man's face, too. We watched Drake set his drink down, empty, on the counter of the bar before being led away and back into the sea of people. Our heads turned, following until they were sucked into the mass. But, every now and then, the tides of bodies and sex would divide and we would see them before they vanished again.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Cass?" Brad shouted over the music, and I swallowed the lump that was in the back of my throat. I didn't want to be thinking the same thing that Brad was thinking, but I was almost sure that I was.

"It's more than likely, yes." I told him, sighing softly. Brad shook his head, looking over at me before reaching out and taking my hand in his. He shifted from one foot to the other, looking back over at Drake and his friend as the swarm of people divided again and we got a clear view of the two of them pressed close, the man's hands cupped nicely around Drake's ass.

"Oh, hell, no." Brad hissed, starting to pull away from me. I sighed, shifting and taking his wrist in my hand, pulling him back to me. Brad turned, staring up at me in confusion, but I just shook my head at him.

"It's probably nothing, Brad…" I said, glancing over at Drake again. His position hadn't changed much, but the closeness he had with his friend looked a little on the excessive side.. They were close like only Adam and Drake should've been..

Adam..

"Nothing, Cass? _Nothing?_ You can_not_ look at them and tell me that it's _nothing_." Brad hissed at me, looking between my face and where Drake was standing. I licked at my lips, sighing softly again, loosening my grip on Brad's wrist. He had a point, but I wasn't sure. I wanted nothing more for Drake than for him to be happy, but I wanted him to remember that Adam was due to be home soon, too…

"I know…" I muttered, knowing that Brad wasn't going to be able to hear me, but he could read my lips and he could understand. Brad glanced over his shoulder, back towards Drake. The two of them seemed to be even closer, if that was physically possible.

"Fuck it, I'm going," Brad snarled, pulling away.

"Brad—!" I tried to call him back, but I ended up following him, pushing through the crowds towards Drake and his friend. The nagging in my stomach only grew, pounding and boiling and rolling over drastically in my stomach and becoming more and more of a problem. The bitter thought of things being wrong intensified as Brad tapped Drake's shoulder, pulling him and his friend— Mark— from their dance.

From that moment to Drake slamming the door shut of car, locking himself inside, was nothing but a shit storm from hell. It had never been my intention to make Drake upset, but that's exactly what Brad and I ended up doing, and I'd never felt more like an asshole in my life because of it, too.

I stopped short by the entrance of the club, Brad coming up beside me as I stared at Drake through the window of the car. He was curled up in such a fashion that it was hard to see his face, but I could see his frame trembling and I knew that he was crying. Probably sobbing, but I didn't want to make any assumptions.

"Fuck…" Brad sighed softly, running his fingers through his hair. I nodded once, blinking back the need to cry before swallowing the lump from my throat. Fuck was right. We'd fucked up. Big time.

I licked my lips, staring at Drake in the car. He as a wreck. And that was our fault. He'd been having a good time with someone that, for a change, wasn't _us_ and we'd ruined that for him. We ruined the beginnings of a friendship that he needed. There was little doubt in my mind that all of the progress that had been made in getting Drake back to normal had been crushed and blow away to dust, reverting him back to his sullen self. I didn't want to label Drake a pussy, but that's what we'd done to him.

"We need to tell Adam." I whispered to Brad, almost fearful that, through the car, Drake would hear us. We couldn't let him know that we were considering telling Adam. Sure, they talked on a weekly basis as if their distance was nothing, but I knew Drake hadn't said anything of his attack to Adam. He wasn't going to be able to keep it a secret for long.

Brad looked over at me, shock in his eyes, "What? Cass, are you really sure that's our place—" Brad began to say, but I shook my head.

"He needs to know. He needs to know that Drake's hurting and needs him. Believe me, Brad, I don't want to worry him while he's away on tour, but I, also, don't want him to come home expecting to see Drake fine and happy and find him scarred and afraid to love." I explained, looking over to Brad as we, slowly, made our way to the car. We kept our voices low as we neared.

"I know… But, Drake's going to kill us if he finds out that we told Adam…" I shook my head.

"He won't find out. We'll tell Adam. We'll tell him what's going on, tell him not to question Drake about it over the phone. Tell him to come home as soon as he can and stay with Drake," I sighed softly, rubbing the back of my neck again. "I don't like this anymore than you do, Brad, but we have to tell him. We should have the night Drake was attacked."

Brad bit down on his bottom lip before letting out a long, heavy breath, nodding once. I swallowed the lump in my throat, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips before walking around to the driver's side of the car, slipping in as Brad slipped into the passenger seat.

The drive was awkward. Drake had managed to keep himself quiet in his tears the entire ride. There was no music. There was no talk. There was only the hum of the engine and the steady breath of mine and Brad. It seemed like every street took forever to drive down, every corner curved for miles and every light took an eternity, but, thank the Lord, we made it back to the apartment only, about, fifteen minutes after leaving the club.

Drake seemed to launch himself from the backseat, hurrying over to the front door and unlocking it, slipping inside. I sighed, pulling myself from the driver's seat of the car, slamming my door shut after Brad before locking it up. I shoved my keys into my pocket, glancing over the hood towards Brad.

"Might as well call him, now. I don't wanna chance going inside to do it with Drake there." I told him. Brad nodded once, sighing softly as I fished my phone from my pocket. My hands were trembling lightly as I scrolled through my contacts, reaching Adam's name around the middle of the list. My iPhone was organized by last names. If it was by firsts, my search would have ended much sooner.

My thumb hovered over his name for a moment before I sighed, pressing the screen. I lifted my phone to my ear, staring over at Brad as he walked to the door, pulling it closed, letting it shut softly. The dial tone rung and rung in my ear and I wondered if I was calling Adam at a bad time, when—

"Hello?" Damnit.

"Hey, Adam." I said quietly, clearing my throat.

"Cass?" My heart was thrashing in my chest and I forced myself to take a breath.

"Y-yeah." I could almost imagine a frown on Adam's face as he spoke.

"Is everything alright? You sound off." Adam muttered gently and I sighed again, rubbing my forehead as Brad came to my side, letting his hand rest on my shoulder comfortingly.

"No. Things aren't alright, Adam." I told him, hating the fact that I had to break this to him. Hating the fact that there was a part of me that wanted to make something up and lie just so he wouldn't have to deal with this on top of his tour. Hating the fact that I'd let him down and that I'd failed in taking care of Drake.

"What do you mean? Is Drake okay?" My heart skipped a beat and I wanted to choke on it.

"N-no… Adam…" I sighed, "Drake.. Drake's unstable..right now." I told him as gently as I could, knowing that the words, themselves, would be bad enough. There was a unsettling silence on Adam's end of the phone, but after a moment, I heard a door click shut and there was nothing but the sound of Adam's voice. No background chatter or television, nothing. Just him.

"What are you talking about?"

"Drake.. Was attacked a few months ago.." I let out, my heart pounding in my chest.

"..What..?" Adam whispered, his voice quivering. Fuck…

"Someone attacked him on the streets, believing that your breakup was his fault and felt he deserved… Deserved to suffer the way you did…" I trailed off, swallowing the painful lump of guilt that was lodged in my throat.

"What happened…?" He said, his voice so soft I almost thought I had imagined his question.

"Th-the… The right half of his face.. It's scarred.. He was cut up really badly.. I'm sorry, Adam. I'm sorry, we should have told you sooner, it's just Drake told us not to and we didn't want you to—"

"I'm coming home." My heart froze.

"Adam, what about your tour?" I questioned, staring hard at the ground.

"I don't care. I need to come home." I sighed softly.

"How long do you have left in the tour?" I asked, lifting my gaze over to Brad. He was staring intently at me, trying to hear Adam as best as he could.

"Another two months, or so." Adam muttered, groaning quietly. I could imagine him pacing his room and running fingers through his hair. Such were habits that Adam had whenever he was thinking heavily about something or.. he was stressed out.

"Finish it out, Adam. Then come home." I told him.

"No. I need to come home, _now_." He hissed. I clenched my jaw.

"Adam, if you come home now, Drake's going to make you turn around and finish your show. You know him." I retaliated.

"But Drake… I can't. My fans will understand." He said quietly, almost pleadingly.

"Adam… One of your _fans_ hurt Drake…" I told him, the bitterness of the truth heavy on my tongue. There was another silence on Adam's end of the line before he let out a heavy breath, whimpering quietly.

"Damnit… Fucking damnit!" Adam growled, and there was a loud thudding sound, but I didn't question it. I swallowed again, trying to calm myself.

"Finish your tour. Then come home." Adam hesitated for a moment before replying.

"Alright."


	9. You've Got to Be What Tomorrow Needs

**Chapter Nine: You've Got to Be What Tomorrow Needs  
Brad's POV  
**  
"Yeah… Yeah, I know I haven't but I've been…" I heard Drake mumbling through his bedroom door. It had been about a week since the whole Mark incident and he hadn't been very social since. We'd mostly kept him out of the complete isolation of his room, but he refused to leave the house. It was nerve racking for Cassidy and myself, but we were the only ones to really blame. We shouldn't have pulled Drake away from the guy like we did, we just… didn't want him to forget about Adam.

_Adam's the only person Drake even cares about._ That thought didn't really clear itself in my mind until _after_ everything that went down at the club. Adam's rejection was what he cared about more than anything else in the world. He was terrified of losing Adam because of what had happened.

Although I wasn't really sure who he was talking to. I hoped Adam didn't call him up to ask why he didn't tell him the truth. Cassidy and I begged him not to tell Drake he knew. Drake didn't want to tell him because he didn't want to fuck up Adam's tour. I totally got that, but he did deserve to know before he came home, completely unaware…

"I know, I'm sorry," Drake mumbled and I could only imagine a tight frown pulling his lips in a southern direction. I was almost positive that he frowned ninety-nine percent of the time, much to mine and Cassidy's displeasure. "You can't do that!" he suddenly exclaimed. "Just because you're running it doesn't mean that you've done all the work!" Okay, he definitely was not talking to Adam. Adam and Drake hardly fought, ever.

"Those are _mine_!" he growled. "My work! One of a kinds that you won't get from anyone else! Without those you wouldn't even have anything to run in the first place!" He must have been talking about his art. That's the only thing that really fit into what he was saying… "Right, because the rest of the artists you work with are worth two dimes," he seethed. Wow, that was harsh for Drake. He was usually so nice!

"You said it yourself! None of the other artists you sponsor are good at what they fucking do. There isn't anyone who associates with you that sells more work, at higher prices, than I do!" Drake sounded downright frantic at this point. There was a long silence before he began speaking again, this time in a much quieter voice. "Don't they understand that I've been through a lot? That I'm trying to get through something terrible that I couldn't control?" he asked, sounding now like he was on the verge of tears.

There was another pause, followed by Drake sighing. I supposed I shouldn't have been eavesdropping like this. I'd just come down to ask Drake if he wanted to get some lunch with me because Cassidy was off doing something at Skin Grafts, or something. I just happened to walk over at a bad time, I guess. I always was one to have horrible timing.

Drake sighed again and there was a shuffling behind the door. "Alright. I'll be over later this afternoon," he said. "But please… Just- Just don't stare, okay?" He said his goodbyes to whoever he was speaking to on the phone. There was some more shuffling on his side of the door and I curled my fist to knock, but his door opened just as I was lifting my hand.

Shock and startle rushed through his bright blue eyes for a moment. Even after everything that happened over the last few months, his eyes remained bright and vibrate. He totally proved the myth, that says your eyes dull, wrong. Dead wrong. "Oh hey, Brad…" he mumbled.

"Hey," I said, stepping aside so he could step out of the room. He was wearing a pair of black skinny jeans, that I could perfectly see shaped to his ass and thighs to make them look fantastic. He was wearing a white tank and a black, button up shirt over it that had a sort of silver stitching shinning in the fabric. He left it unbuttoned on the top half and rolled the elbows up to the sleeves. Even as simple as it was, it was nice to see Drake dress himself in something other than sweats.

"Is Cass here?" he asked, running his fingers over his shirt to smooth out a few wrinkles.

"No, he's at skin grafts, helping with a design or something. He said he'd probably be gone all day," I said, my eyes shifting from him, to his room, and back to him. "Um, I kind of overheard some of that conversation. What's going on?" I asked, trying not to seem like I'd been spying on him.

He sighed again, running his fingers through his hair to get the right side to lay flat enough to hide most of his scars. "My boss called me. He's been running my art shows for me but he's getting angry that I haven't come back to work…" he said, frowning like I imagined he would have been while talking on the phone. "I need to go to my art show tonight and start getting back into the work field and shit…" He didn't sound pleased, but really, it wasn't a bad thing to get out of the house and go back to work.

"Drake, honey," I said, putting an arm around him. "It's going to be alright. I know the idea scares you, but going back to work will be a good thing, I'm sure," I added, pressing a kiss to his temples. I needed to get up on my toes to kiss him, considering he was several inches taller than me, but I had to do it for Cassidy and Adam too, so I was used to it. "What time do you have to be there?"

"Two," he said, smiling just slightly at my comfort attempts. "If… Cassidy isn't going to be home at all today, would you mind going with me? There's free food…" he said and I just laughed, rolling my eyes.

"Of course I'll go. I love your shows, plus, I don't wanna be home alone all day and you know I'll do anything to make you happy," I told him. "How about this, we'll leave now, grab some lunch, and then head over to the show, alright?"

He nodded, a tiny smile spreading across his lips, but it was a smile nonetheless. "On the way home, can we stop by my studio? I need to get some art supplies and… pick up my car too. I'll probably need to be going back to work a lot, so I'll need to have a way to get around," he said. Drake didn't really have a "home" per say. He owned a very large studio apartment that had a tiny kitchenette in it. He set up a bedroom/living room area on one side and the rest of the space was dedicated to be his art studio. Since he was an interior designer on top of being an artist, his studio looked beautiful, despite it being one giant room, plus a separate bathroom, but he didn't usually sleep there.

When Adam wasn't on tour, he mostly lived with Adam and after the attack, he stayed with us, but he didn't mind his studio. He liked it a lot, actually. It was upscale and cost more than a pretty penny, but he didn't, really, like living alone. "Sure, no problem," I told him, looping my arm with his. "We've got plenty of room for another car. You got your keys, right?"

Drake walked towards the front of the apartment and picked up a lanyard that had been, mostly, untouched since he first came to live with Cassidy and me. The lanyard, I had to laugh, was white with Gir from that old Nicktoons show. Drake had a soft spot for the little alien robot dog thing, and I remember the day Adam gave him that lanyard perfectly. Drake had gotten a little too excited for something so trivial and it was adorable, not ganna lie.

"Alright then, let's go," I said, taking Drake through the front door of the condo. I locked it up behind us and then took Drake over to my car. It was a sporty, two door car, so we didn't use it much for group traveling. It was hard for people as tall as Cassidy and Drake to climb in and out of the back seat, so I usually only used it when I was by myself or with one other person.

Drake winced at the sunlight beating down on him. He wasn't used to it, obviously, poor guy. But he got himself to the car without covering his face and climbed into the passenger's seat. I climbed into the driver's side and pulled out from under the rain cover.

Drake and I ended up having Mexican for lunch, which was a nice change from the endless amounts of Chinese takeout we had been eating recently. We had some time to kill, so we ended up going to the mall, where I forced Drake to buy several new pairs of skinny jeans and a few shirts. He wasn't happy with me, saying his wardrobe was fine, but new clothes never killed anybody, right?

"I hate you," he mumbled after the sixth pair of jeans I made him try on and get. Adding to his original wardrobe, I'd gotten him to buy two pairs of blue skinnies, one light and one dark, burnt orange, highlighter yellow, lime green and even hot pink. The hot pink were, honestly, my favorite. They looked fantastic, not that the rest of them didn't. He also got several tanks of various colors and a few over shirts, all on sale and all fabulous. Win win, right? "Can we go now?"

"Don't be such a kill joy," I teased, pulling Drake out towards the car with his many shopping bags. I think he was just miffed that I forced him into getting all these new articles of clothing when I didn't get jack, but whatever. Thankfully, no one had made a rude comment about his face or even stared at the scars. They were probably all too busy staring at his ass to care about a few scars.

The art show, once we got there, looked fabulous. All of his pieces, whether abstract or realistic, were completely stunning. I was so jealous of what he could do so easily with a pen or a paint brush. It was like he didn't even need to try. His boss came up to him, a big smile on his face as he embraced Drake tightly. I almost thought he was going to break Drake's skinny frame, but thankfully he didn't.

"It's so good to see you back where you belong," he said. His eyes did sweep over the scars but they never lingered there, much to my relief. If enough people made Drake feel comfortable with how he looked, maybe he could love himself again and get over what had happened to him… I prayed that would be the case, anyway.

"Well, it honestly does feel good to be back…" Drake said, a faint smile passing over his lips. His boss, who's name I thought was Jonathon, or something along those lines, grinned brightly.

"Come on, let's get you back into the swing of things," he said, putting an arm around Drake's shoulders to pull him further into the art display. Drake reached back, grabbing my hand tightly in his and he dragged me along, not that I minded. I was here for moral support and to be totally and completely jealous over his beautiful art.

I was stunned when I saw his feature piece, the only one that wasn't for sale. It was a painting of Adam, his arms wound around a smaller built boy's frame. The boy was facing Adam, pressed against his chest with his chin resting on Adam's shoulder. Who the boy was, wasn't exactly clear, but I knew, for a fact, that it was Drake. The canvas was huge, bigger than any I'd seen in a craft store, and if took up a large part of the wall it hung on. It was clearly the center piece of not only the wall, but the entire building.

"When did you do that?" I whispered to him, pointing to the painting.

Drake's eyes wandered over to it and, for the first time in a long time, a real, big smile painted itself across his lips. "Right after Adam left, like a few weeks," he said. "It's… a homecoming gift for him," he added, his eyes filling with a few tears that I was sure were of happiness. I smiled softly, kissing Drake gently on the cheek.

"He'll love it, baby, it's gorgeous, but he'll be upset that you didn't paint your face too," I said and Drake just rolled his eyes, chuckling softly.

We turned to see people start flooding the show, anxious to critique and buy Drake's work. At the back of the group was the last person I ever thought I would see again. Mark. Oh fucking Hell.


	10. Stories Have To Start

**Chapter Ten: Deep Into The Place That Stories Have To Start…**

**Drake's POV**

Though I would never admit it aloud to Brad, I actually enjoyed our lunch and shopping spree. I didn't believe that I, really, needed six new pairs of skinny jeans, but Brad seemed determined to broaden my wardrobe just a touch by hurling them at me, along with various new colored tanks and shirts. I'd, no doubt, be able to come up with a hundred new outfits at this point— not to mention, those pink skinnies were super adorable.

But couldn't Brad have gotten something for himself that way it didn't feel like it was all about me? Couldn't he have gotten something— anything, for himself? No, of course not. Because Brad was just that kind of a person.

Going back to the studio where all of my art pieces were set up was something that was both frightening and refreshing. I hadn't been surrounded by something so natural and comforting to me in such a long time that it was a mix of a cool kiss of fresh air and being shoved forward a thousand miles. And when my boss hugged me with that big fat grin of his on his face, I could only wonder why I had been away so long.

Mingling around with Brad and my boss, discussing what would end up being for sale and what was for show was a familiar experience that left me smiling. Showing Brad my feature piece— a painting of Adam and myself in an embrace— made my heart skip a few beats. Seeing this painting again reminded me how much I missed Adam and how much I couldn't wait for him to come back home to me.

I tried to ignore the nagging in the back of my mind about Adam seeing my scars. I didn't want to think about him, potentially, leaving me because of them. Cassidy and Brad had both said, time and time again, that Adam wouldn't leave me because of a couple of scars (though, I always told myself, in the back of my subconscious, that there was more than just a _couple_). I wanted to believe that as much as possible and, in seeing my painting, I felt better about the idea of him loving me anyway.

In a matter of minutes after my arrival, people started flooding in. Fans of my work, other artists, up-and-coming artists, critics, everyone and anyone. Several artists of whom I'd spoken with at previous art shows came up to me, some hugging me, some shaking my hand, welcoming me back into what I did best and mentioning how they missed me. I could feel their eyes on my face, but they did not linger long, of which I was thankful.

I wandered around the studio, thanking people for coming to my show, answering questions, giving prices, negotiating, bargaining and chatting up light conversations with people when I felt a hand curl itself over my shoulder. I turned, first looking over my left shoulder— out of habit— to see who was standing behind me. The familiar flaming red hair and brilliant blue eyes… For a moment I thought Adam had dyed his hair when things clicked into place in my mind and I smiled shyly.

"Mark," I acknowledge, turning towards him to reach out with my right hand to take his in a firm shake. Mark smiled warmly at me, his eyes gleaming in the light of the studio, his hair neatly pushed out of his face.

"I see you're back in business," he teased and I smiled lightly, chuckling lightly to myself as I looked away, seeing Brad watching me from across the aisle before pretending to be interested in a photograph I'd taken. I sighed softly, turning my attention back to Mark.

"Yeah. My boss called me this morning and.. requested my appearance for today's show," I explained. It would have been true, except Jonathon had, actually, demanded my appearance. Needless to say, his _request_ wasn't as nice as it sounded. Mark chuckled softly, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he tilted his head to the side somewhat.

"It's good to see you out and about," he said gently, "After you ran off from the club the other night, I wasn't sure if I was going to see you again," I felt my heart drop some and I looked away, rubbing the back of my neck.

"W-well… Something came up that night, and I had to go. I'm sorry, I should have, at least, said goodbye," I mumbled quietly, looking up at him. Mark just smiled, shaking his head as we stepped to the side to let people trying to pass us by move.

"It's okay," Marked assured me, reaching out to rest his hand on my shoulder again. I smiled softly, looking away from him again. "So.. Why don't you show me around? This is your show after all," Marked suggested and I glanced at him, raising an eyebrow before laughing softly.

Like all artists, there was a specific way that the pieces were arranged. Some started forward and went back, some went back and came forward. Mine started in the front right corner and ended in the back left corner, with the painting of Adam and myself as the finishing pieces. I led Mark through the crowds of people, giving a touch of back story on each piece, answering his questions on materials and inspiration as we made our way back.

Brad was hovering around my boss, talking to him as we passed, and I noticed that he kept shooting wary glances at me and Mark— mostly Mark. I sighed softly, smiling at the redhead as I talked about another piece. I couldn't be sure why Brad didn't like Mark, but I really didn't have the patience to talk to him about it, either.

"Oh, wow…" Mark whispered, and I turned my attention to where he was looking. His eyes were on the painting I'd done of Adam with me nestled in his arms, turned away. I blushed faintly, licking my lips nervously as he took a step towards it, his eyes a little wide in their awe. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I stepped up beside him, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Feature piece," I told him, though I was sure he already could guess that, "It's… A bit of a personal portrait," For some reason, talking about this painting— about Adam— with Mark made me feel nervous. Edgy. But what reason did I have to be nervous around him? He was the first person aside from Cassidy and Brad to treat me like a normal human being.

"It's beautiful," he commented, and I blushed more as I turned to look up at the portrait again. Adam's arms were wrapped tightly around me with my chin on his shoulder, turned away from anyone to view it. I'd painted it before my attack, but I didn't want it to be utterly personal. I wanted anyone— more importantly, Adam— to see the glam-star's beauty as well as his sensitivity, "Is that—" Mark began, but I cut him off.

"Adam Lambert. My boyfriend," I said, feeling my heart skip a beat in my chest at mentioning that Adam was my boyfriend. Yes, we'd broken our dating off while he went on tour. Did that mean that our love had faded any? Not at all. The phone calls that we shared most nights proved that. He was still my Adam. I was still his Drake.

Mark turned towards me with a puzzled look on his face, "I thought… I thought you and Adam broke it off?" He suggested and I swallowed another lump from my throat, looking away from both the painting and him, "I'm sorry, I have a fascination for Google, sometimes," he chuckled and I smiled faintly.

"It's okay.. Um.. H-he went on tour and we broke off from dating. He needed to focus on his music and his career, and I needed to focus on my art. But we agreed that, when he came home, we would figure our relationship out and go from there," I told him, unfolding my arms and shoving my hands into my pockets.

Mark nodded once, his face shadowed in deep thought as he stared up at the painting. His body looked rigid and tense, but he didn't say anything. I licked my lips, opening my mouth to say something more when I lost my train of thought at my cell, ringing in my pocket. I closed my mouth again, reaching into my pocket to pull out my phone before staring at the screen.

My heart thudded once in my chest and a small smile pulled at my lips. I looked up at Mark, smiling apologetically, "I'm sorry, I need to take this real fast," I told him, backing away before answering my phone. "Hey, Adam," I said quietly, wrapping my free arm around my waist as I stared down at the floor.

"Hey, Babyboo," Adam said, no doubt smiling on his end of the line. My face heated up a little bit and I bit down on my bottom lip.

"What's up?" I asked, shaking my hair out of my face. The crowds were thinning a little, a few people were crowded around Jonathon, asking him about specific pieces. I smiled softly, leaning against the wall.

"Not much. Just wanted to check on you. I haven't heard from you in a few days," Adam commented, still smiling softly. I chuckled, a permanent blush painting itself over my face as my own smile widened.

"Well… I've become suddenly busy," it wasn't a total lie. I had become suddenly busy, but it started only today.

"With what?" Adam asked and I lifted my head, staring out across the studio at the people staring at my art.

"Art shows, Adam." I said softly, feeling my heart clench. I still hadn't told him that I'd been attacked. I couldn't tell him. I couldn't have him worry about me while he was supposed to be out having the time of his life with his fans and his band mates. I needed him to be clear-headed and happy until he came home and then… Well, at that point, I didn't know what we were going to do. But we would figure it out. One way or another.

"..Right. I'm sorry. I didn't.. I should've known you would be.. A-are you at one, right now?" Adam asked. He sounded off and, if I wasn't mistaken, a little shocked. I frowned slightly, licking at my lips again.

"Y-yeah, Adam. It's gonna be over, soon, though. Afterwards, Brad's gonna take me home." I told him, seeing Mark wandering around again, looking at a couple of other paintings I'd done. I couldn't see Brad anywhere, and I wondered if he'd gone home or if he was waiting in his car. Or something.

"Cool. Say hi to him for me?" Adam asked, and I chuckled softly.

"I will. Cass, too," I said, trailing off. I inhaled slowly through my nose before letting the breath out through my mouth. "I miss you, Adam," I told him, my heart pounding lightly in my chest as I spoke. Adam was quiet on his end of the line for a brief second before speaking.

"I miss you, too, Drake. So much," tears threatened to sting at my eyes, but I didn't let them fall. I smiled softly, instead, swallowing the limp back.

"I should probably go for now, though. I've still got a couple of people asking about art sales and everything like that. I'll talk to you later, okay, baby?" My heart skipped a beat when I called him baby and my smile widened on my face.

"Sure thing, Drake. I love you," another skip and my face flushed even hotter than before.

"I love you, too, Adam," I replied. Saying those words to him made me feel whole and complete, regardless of my situation and my low-self-esteem. I glanced up, seeing Mark looking over in my direction before looking away.

"I'll be home soon, Babyboo," I smiled again.

"I'll be waiting."


	11. Don't Let Them Get You Down

**Chapter Eleven: Don't Take That Shit, Don't Let Them Get You Down  
Cassidy's POV  
**  
Drake was finally starting to feel comfortable with his face.

He was finally starting to open up to other people and he was actually leaving the condo! He went to work every day and he held his art shows as frequently as he did before the attack. He even smiled like nothing had happened. I hadn't seen him so spunky and, well, Drake-like since before Adam left. It was wonderful to see that boy smiling again. For months, I was terrified that we would never see him crack a grin again. Thank the Higher Power that I was wrong.

Today was, like, the sixth art show Drake had put on this month. I was amazed at just how quickly he snapped back into the phase of his work life. Thankfully, Brad and I were both able to go today. I'd come to a couple and Brad had gone to a couple but we didn't ever get to go together. Today was the first day we were able to and we jumped on the opportunity like sharks to fresh blood.

"Is that huge painting of you and Adam still your center piece?" I asked once we left the restaurant we'd just eaten at. The painting was huge, probably large enough to be considered a mural if it had been painted on a wall instead of a canvas. It showed off Adam's beauty but, even though you couldn't see Drake's face, it made him look just as beautiful. I honestly didn't know how Drake made such wonderful works of art like it was instinct, but he was truly amazing at it.

"Yes," he said, climbing into the driver's seat of his car. It was strange not driving him around, to be perfectly honest. "It'll be my feature until Adam comes home and I can give it to him," he explained, a smile stretching across his lips. Talking about Adam always made him smile, although I knew he was still terrified of Adam rejecting him.

"Are you ganna give it to him at a show?" Brad asked, hanging his head between mine and Drake's seats. Brad was always banished to the back of the car.

"Yeah," Drake said again. "I'm planning a show as soon as he comes home and the painting is a surprise, so don't tell him. I swear to God, I'll kill both of you at the same time if you tell Adam about it. I promise." Brad and I exchanged warily glances before laughing together. We knew Drake was serious, which was scary, but he was also joking. He was just that kind of guy. Serious, yet not.

"We won't tell him, Baby," I told him, smiling at him. Drake smile bashfully, his hair falling in front of his face to hide his scars. "He'll be really excited when you give it to him though. I can only imagine his face now…"

Brad laughed out loud. "He'll probably get all wide eyes with his jaw open, you know, like when his boyfriend wears skanky outfits," he said and I could see Drake blushing behind his hair. "And then he'll probably tear up, wrap his arms around Drake and kiss him embarrassingly in front of dozens and dozens of people." Drake's blush deepened and I just laughed, nodding my agreement.

"Prolly," I said.

"Shuddup…" Drake mumbled, his cheeks flaming. He was so embarrassed, it was adorable. I just wished Adam was here to see how cute his boy looked. "I don't dress like a skank. Ever."

"Not true. You always dress up for Adam," Brad said, smirking with satisfaction. He loved making people flustered, so it was always great when he teased someone enough to make them blush brighter than Christmas tree lights. "And, I know for a fact, that Adam loved it…" he added.

"Brad!" Drake hissed, pulling off of the road and into the parking lot of the art studio he usually had his shows at. "Stop talking about my sex life, please!" His face was a nice, deep shade of red and I really wanted to take a picture of it to send to Adam, but Drake would never stand for that. He still thought Adam didn't know about the attack… He would murder us if he ever knew we told Adam a few weeks ago…

Brad climbed out of the car and wrapped his arms around Drake's waist, kissing his neck teasingly. "But why not? We all know how dirty you two get…" he mumbled into Drake's ear.

"Brad, stop harassing Drake. He could call the police for sexual assault. Not to mention, if Adam ever saw you kissing his boy's neck like that… he's probably kill you," I said, walking over to pull Brad off of Drake. But Brad was a stubborn son of a bitch and he held tightly to Drake's skinny frame.

"I'm not afraid of Adam. The worst he could do is, like, drown me in glitter, or something," he retorted and Drake managed to squirm out of his arms.

"Drown you in glitter? Brad, that would result in your death," Drake said, rolling his eyes. "Maybe you should be more afraid of Adam." Brad waved his hand dismissively through the air, like the idea of Adam actually being a threat was ridiculous. In reality, it probably was ridiculous. Adam was too loveable to really get violent, but I'd seen him throw a few punches in his time. He could rumble with the best of them if he needed to. I could only really see him doing that if it was for Drake though.

Drake took us inside and it was completely different from the last show he put on, except for the painting of Adam hanging in the center. That was the only thing I could even recognize the same. I didn't know Drake did so many pieces of art. It was truly breathtaking.

"This is fantastic, Drake…" I muttered. "You never fail to-" I was cut off by my phone blaring obnoxiously in my pocket. I pulled it out quietly and saw that it was Adam. Strange, he usually didn't call me. He was too busy to call everyone but Drake, really. "I'll be right back," I said to Brad and Drake and I stepped off towards the corner of the room before answering. "Hello?" I asked into the phone.

"Hey, Cass," Adam said, sounding like he had a smile painted on his lips.

"Hey, what's up?" I asked. I couldn't really fight the smile that tugged at my lips. Adam just had a contagious feel to him. If he was happy, so was everyone around him.

"Well, I have some good news. I finally got an exact date for when my flight home will be," he said and I could only imagine his smile stretching a little more.

"Oh really?" I asked, leaning against the wall. I looked out at Drake. Brad was standing next to him and he was talking to several people about an abstract painting he's done. I think the people were really interested in buying it and I could only assume that they were negotiating out a price. "And when might that be, darling?" I asked, chuckling softly.

Adam laughed, sounding like the sexually deviant angel he was. "Three weeks from today, Cass! I… I love what I do and I love sharing my music with the world but I am so excited to finally come home!" he exclaimed and I kind of wondered if he was dancing around the room he was standing in. That would definitely be a sight to see.

"Really? Wow, that'll be fantastic! Oh, Drake will be so excited to know that you're coming home earlier than we thought!" I exclaimed, but then I stopped, thinking about what I'd just said for a moment. "Wait, why didn't you just call Drake and tell him the good news?" I asked, frowning a little.

"Because, Cass… I want it to be a surprise. I know he's going through a lot of shit right now and I'd like to be able to surprise him," he said, sounding a little more serious but still really fucking excited. I couldn't blame him. He'd been away from his home, his friends, his family and, most importantly, his lover for a really fucking long time. Now he was finally getting to come home and relax a little bit.

Soon though, he'd have to start working on a new album and such, but at least he'd be able to relax for a few weeks and spend some much needed time with his peeps. "So I'm not allowed to tell him then?" I asked, pouting a little. Even if Adam couldn't see it, I was almost sure he knew I was doing it.

"Please don't, Cass. I just really want to surprise him. I got him a little treasure chest with some little gifts from different places I've been and I really just wanna surprise him," he said to me. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought he was begging me not to say anything to the brunette. "Please Cass?"

"Okay, okay, I won't say anything. You're just lucky I love you," I told him, chuckling softly. He laughed with me and our conversation was brought to an end. Adam had to go to sound check for one of his shows and I really needed to get back to Drake and Brad.

I slipped my phone back into my pocket and turned back to my friends. Drake was still with Brad, and a different set of people were talking to them, but they didn't really seem to be too interested in Drake's art and, if I wasn't mistaken, Drake looked extremely upset.

Frowning, I walked back over to them. Upon closer examination, I could see the tears brimming in Drake's eyes and Brad getting extremely sassy with the people who were standing next to them. "Um, is there a problem here?" I asked, glaring in the direction of the visitors. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, that these people had said something rude or crude to Drake…

"These assholes just came over and starting harassing Drake!" Brad hissed, turning to face me. His arm was curled protectively around Drake. It looked strange, seeing as Drake was taller than Brad, but it didn't really matter. "I told them to leave but they fucking won't!"

I frowned, glancing at Drake for a moment. He was literally on the verge of tears and I wanted to punch whichever one of these people who made Drake so upset. "Look, this is _Drake's_ art show and if you are just going to be rude and harass him, you'll need to fucking leave," I hissed at them.

"It's called freedom of speak. If we wanna express how we feel about his _hideous_ face, we have every damned right to do it!" the man at the front of the group hissed. I could smell the booze dripping off of him and I felt like gagging. The smell was just overpowering and seeing Drake on the verge of sobs wasn't exactly helping anything.

"Get out!" I shouted at them. Johnathon, Drake's boss, came over.

"What's going on here?" he asked.

I turned to look at Johnathon. "These men are harassing Drake and they won't leave," I told him. Johnathon also asked them to leave but they were determined to see Drake cry. After arguing with the men for several minutes, Johnathon simply called security but it didn't matter at this point. Drake was already in tears. Brad was trying to comfort him, but it didn't seem to be helping any.

Suddenly, I wished three weeks would go by in the next fifteen seconds, so Adam could sweep Drake into his arms and kiss his tears away. I sighed quietly, wrapping my arms around Drake. I pulled him to my chest, holding him to me and stroking his hair gently. "Baby, shh, don't let what a couple drunk, assholes said get to you. You aren't hideous…" I whispered. I could only pray that this didn't send Drake backwards in his progress. He's come so far over the last few weeks and now harsh words from one person were forcing him to sob.


	12. Stop Your Preaching Right There

**Chapter Twelve: Stop Your Preaching Right There, 'Cause I Really Don't Care…**

**Brad's POV**

It had been about a week since the incident at Drake's art show. His boss let him take a little time away from work to shake off what had happened, but he encouraged Drake to come back as soon as he could. He'd promised Drake that he would run the shows for the time being until Drake could get back on his feet again.

It just.. It wasn't fair. Drake had finally started to accept that what had happened had happened, and that he could get over it. He'd finally started to realize that he was still himself and that his scars didn't have to keep him from doing what he loved most. But then those drunk motherfuckers had to come barging into his show and ruin everything for him. Ruin his progress. Ruin his faith and his acceptance in himself.

Drake had gone back to hiding in his room for most days, only coming out to use the bathroom, shower, and eat on occasion. He didn't say much to me or Cassidy, though, some days, I could hear him talking quietly on the phone with someone. Most times it was Adam, based on their conversations and the tone of Drake's voice through the phone. Other times it sounded like he was talking to someone else, though I wasn't sure who.

Cass and I tried, in vain, to get Drake to come out of his room and try again. But we realized after the fourth or fifth failed attempt that it was going to be a complete restart to when he'd first been attacked. He didn't want to be social with anyone who could see him. He'd fallen back to square one…

I stepped into the living room of the apartment, seeing Cassidy curled up on the couch with a sketchbook in his hands. Drake was still holed up in his room, no doubt, and I let out a heavy breath, running fingers through my hair, "Baby? I'm going out. We need groceries and stuff. Not to mention I need some air," I explained, and Cassidy glanced up at me, nodding once.

"Alright love. How long do you think you'll be?" He asked and I sighed softly, shrugging. I had no idea how long I was going to be out. But I knew that I needed to _get out_. I adored Drake dearly and wanted nothing more than for him to be happy and to feel comfortable with himself like he had been, but I needed some cheeky time to myself, too. And while the idea of grocery shopping wasn't too appealing, it was better than nothing.

"Hopefully I won't be long. I'll let you know when I'm on my way home," I told him, leaning over the back of the couch to kiss Cassidy on the lips. He moaned softly, reaching up to palm my face in his hand, deepening our kiss for a moment before I pulled away, smiling at him, "I love you," I whispered.

"I love you, too. Be safe," he said back, and I nodded once, stepping away from him to grab my keys off of the side table by the door before opening it and slipping out into the sunshine. The heat sucked itself into my black skinnies and black tank, but the white over-shirt that I had kept me somewhat cool, of which I was thankful. Squinting slightly, I made my way to the car, unlocking the doors before slipping inside.

For a minute, I just sat there, staring hard at the steering wheel before letting out a long break, sliding the key into the ignition. I wasn't sure what Cass and I were going to do about Drake. Adam— as I'd been told by Cass— was supposed to be home in about two weeks. And if Drake was sullen and afraid, it wasn't going to be a very easy homecoming for him… I had no doubt that Adam was looking forward to seeing Drake light up like a firework when he came home. And, if things continued the way they were, he was going to be burning more like a candle stub in a funeral home…

'_Don't worry about all of that now. Just go take care of what you want to take care of and come back home. That's all you can do right now._' I told myself, turning the key before pulling out of the parking spot next to our apartment door, driving out of the lot and down the road.

Keeping my eyes mostly on the road, I fumbled through the CD case that was tucked between the seats before plucking a disk out, changing out Adam's _For Your Entertainment_ album for My Chemical Romance's _Danger Days_. What? So I had a bid of a thing for MCR. Don't judge me.

I skipped past the first three songs, letting _Sing_ fill the vehicle as I drove. I tapped my fingers to the beat, mouthing along with the words as I drove. But I wasn't really focused on the words, themselves. I was still thinking about what had happened with Drake and that Adam was going to be home soon. Everything was beginning to snowball together and all of the progress that had been made for Drake suddenly collapsed based on a drunk man's slurred remarks. Fantastic, right?

Sighing softly, I changed lanes before turning down a different street, driving down a long stretch of road before turning into the parking lot of a Safeway. Pulling into a spot, I killed the engine, pocketing my keys and my phone before hurrying into the building to escape the heat. It was strange that it was so warm. It was December at this point… God, December.

Adam had left back in June, and Drake had been attacked sometime between late July and early August. And now it was early into December. Adam was going to be back soon. Had it really only been these few months? It felt like eternity without Adam holding Drake together. It felt like eternity without Adam at all…

Shaking my head a little to myself, I grabbed a cart, steering it down the first few aisles for snacks and breads and boxed dinners. I wasn't much of a fan of grocery shopping, to be honest. It felt like a chore more than anything, but it was my turn to go out and get it done. Cassidy had done it last time and, since Drake had been, previously, busy with his art shows, Cassidy and I were the only ones to really trade off.

I bit down on my bottom lip, grabbing the things that sounded good or the things that Cassidy and Drake had mentioned that they wanted. Needless to say, I had a really good memory when it came to shopping. It was easy for me to retain information of what people wanted or needed when it came to necessities. There was no doubt or worry for me about forgetting anything.

I'd just turned a corner, looking for cereals when I saw someone at the end of the aisle. Someone that I hadn't really wanted to see again. His red hair was pulled out of his face in a loose, short pony-tail, his frame— similar to Cassidy's, almost— was adorned in a black tank and white skinny jeans, black Converse tied to his feet. I had half a mind to turn around and leave the aisle when Mark looked over at me and smiled shyly.

Deciding not to be rude, I smiled back at him, reaching for the Captain Crunch and Cheerios. Cassidy liked Captain Crunch. Drake and I liked Cheerios. It was a simple and easy grab, and I'd hoped to get out of the aisle as soon as possible, but Mark had made his way towards me in the time it took me to bend down, grab the boxes and toss them into the cart.

"Hey," Mark said softly, a gentle smile on his lips. I gave him a half-assed smile before standing straight, leaning against the cart.

"Hey," I said simply, keeping back the tension that wanted to creep into my tone. I wasn't, exactly, Mark's biggest fan, to say the least. I couldn't really understand why I didn't like him much. I just had a bad vibe about him. Apart from the fact that he seemed to have an interest in Drake— which was not allowed, because Drake was Adam's boy— there wasn't anything wrong with him. I just _didn't_ like him.

"Um.. H-how is Drake? I haven't seen him at any art shows lately… Did something happen?" Mark asked. It was a simple question. Wanting a simple answer. But somehow I found myself wondering why he would have the audacity to ask such a thing. Drake was _not_ his priority, and therefore did _not_ need to be concerned.

But I couldn't be rude, much as I wanted to, "Some people came to a show last week and said some awful things to Drake that have.. Made him feel less than perfect. He's fine, though," I said to Mark, pushing my cart down the aisle, hoping that Mark would take the hint and leave me be, because I didn't have much of an interest in talking to him anymore.

Though, who was I kidding? Mark seemed like the kind of person who couldn't take hints, and he followed me, "He never mentioned that to me… He's been telling me he's been sick," I glanced over my shoulder at Mark, raising a judging eyebrow at him. "I— I have his number… He gave it to me after a show a few weeks ago," he explained.

Damnit, Drake.

"I see. Well, if he says he's sick, then I guess you can go with that. He's been feeling less than perfect, meaning he's not feeling well. He'll return when he's up to it," I told Mark, my tone, perhaps, a little more than bitter. Mark sighed softly, continuing to follow me as I made my way down the aisle some more, grabbing a bag of chips from a shelf and tossing it into the cart.

"W-well, what kinds of things were said? Surely nothing so bad to keep him from wo—" Mark began to say, but I cut him off by turning hard on my heels, staring hard at him. 

"Look, Mark— Mark, right?— you're a sweet guy, and I get that you care for Drake, but he's _not_ your concern. He's going through a hard time right now and, while you're compassion is greatly appreciated, it's not what he _needs_," I told him, my voice clipped with just the right amount of a hiss that Mark stepped away from me, staring hard.

"What do you mean?" He asked quietly, his eyes flicking back and forth between mine. I sighed softly, rubbing my forehead for a moment before looking over at him.

"Stop flirting with Drake. He's already got a boyfriend who happens to be coming home in a few weeks. Just leave him alone. He's got enough going on without someone else interfering with his life," I hissed, turning on my heel. I pushed my cart, turning a corner to go pay for what I'd gotten. I wasn't done with my shopping, but I needed to get out of this grocery store and away from Mark.

I wasn't sure why I was so cruel to him. Maybe it was just the idea that someone else was interested in Drake made me irritated. Couldn't people just understand that Adam and Drake were in love and, while they were not physically dating, they were still very much committed to each other? Why did people have to make life so fucking complicated for my friends?

And maybe Mark didn't deserve my irritation. Maybe he was only thinking of the best for Drake, trying to be there for him as a friend and nothing more. But I didn't want to take any chance. Drake was more than just a friend to me. He was like my brother. And I was willing to do everything in my power to make sure that he was safe and happy until Adam came home.


	13. I'm On the Right Track Baby

**Chapter Thirteen: I'm On the Right Track Baby  
Drake's POV**

I felt like everything I'd accomplished lately didn't mean a god damned thing. I didn't think I'd felt so bad in weeks and suddenly I didn't have the will to do anything. I didn't care if I lost my job or my income. I really just didn't care at all. Was it so hard to have a little bit of peace in my life? When I was finally starting to feel like a normal person again, someone ruined it…

Someone I didn't even know.

I wanted Adam to come home. I craved for his comforting arms to hold me to his chest. But at the same time, I was terrified of when he came home and he saw my face. Brad and Cassidy kept saying that they only thing Adam would care about was the fact that I was hurt, that these scars would never change the way he looked at me. Deep down, I knew Adam wasn't shallow enough to throw me away because of some scars that where not my fault.

But I was terrified of how he would see me when he came back. Maybe he wouldn't leave me but what if he no longer found me to be the boy he used to need every night? He wasn't going to just leave me but what if he thought I was too hideous to actually be sexual with? To be intimate with again?

The only time I ever felt like myself again was when Adam called me. It always hurt when we had to say goodbye… My phone went off on my nightstand and I groaned, rolling over to see that it was a text from Adam. _Hey Boo, I'm exhausted so I'm just going to crash. I just wanted to tell you I miss you and I love you so much. J Please just hold in a little while longer, I'll be home soon._

I smiled just a little. Adam and I were a good several hours apart. He was going to bed when it was really only the middle of the day here. Fuck, I missed him… _Okay baby, get lots of rest. I love you too and I can't wait for you to come home. J_ I replied and pushed myself up from my bed.

Every day I thought about that conversation Cassidy made me have with him in front of that mirror. I was always trying to make myself feel better but the only time it ever truly worked was when I was talking to Adam or getting texts from him. He was the only person who gave me the energy and will to live like a normal person. I realized that I couldn't really waste the chance I had to get up, get dressed and get out of the house, feeling like an actual person.

It didn't matter where I went, I just needed to go somewhere. I needed to put on some fun colored jeans, leave this condo and have some time to myself, trying to see that I was a real person and _not_ a hideous freak who didn't have a real reason to live anymore. Adam was the only person who really gave me the confidence to do anything anymore. I hoped that once he was home all the time, I would really start to recover.

I stripped out of my pjs and pulled on the bright pink skinny jeans Brad made me get at the mall a few weeks ago. I hadn't worn them once. They still had the tags on them and I pulled them up my thighs. They molded to my calves and thighs perfectly, making my ass look fantastic, I had no doubt. I ripped the tags off and pulled a designer tank over my head. I think it was something Cassidy made, but I couldn't be sure. A touch of cologne and some deodorant finished me off and I bolted out of the room, pocketing my phone. I really didn't want to run into Cassidy or Brad. I just wanted to get out and be by myself for a while, try to start feeling normal again before Adam did come home.

The last thing I wanted was for him to come back to a depressed boyfriend who felt he wasn't worth anything.

"Drake?" Brad called, coming out of the kitchen. I sighed, turning to face him. I'd just plucked my keys from the little table by the front door and I was sooo close to being free without being stopped… "Hey baby, where are you going?" he asked, though he had a smile on his face.

"I just… I need to get out of the house for a while, by myself. You know, getting some air and stuff…" I said, shoving my feet into my boots and kneeling down to zip them up the sides. "I'll be back for dinner."

"Oh, okay, well… You have a nice time, okay?" he asked, smiling at me. He walked over to me, kissing my right cheek gently. I forced myself not to tense even though I really wanted to. "We're actually going out for Italian tonight, so if you just wanted to meet me and Cassidy around six, that would be really good," he told me and I nodded, smiling softly.

"Alright, Italian place at six. The usual restaurant?" I asked, pulling a light jacket over my shoulders. The jacket was slim fitting and it used to be just the right size for me. Now it was too big. Fuck… I really was losing too much weight. Adam was going to notice the second he came home and it would look like I was starving myself.

"Yup," Brad said. "Well, have fun, we'll see you at six," he added, turning to walk back into the kitchen with Cassidy.

"At six," I said and I pulled the front door open, walking down to the cover we parked our cars under. I walked down to my charcoal Mazda and unlocked before climbing into the driver's seat. I put the key in the ignition and the engine purred to life. "The one thing that has always been constant in my life…" I mumbled to the car. How pathetic.

Backing out from under the cover, I turned onto the road and just started driving. I really wasn't sure where I was going. It didn't matter, I just needed to get out of the house. I needed to go somewhere where I could relax and just let my mind wander outside of the attack and that man telling me how disgusting I was. I just wanted to feel like a normal person again.

I ended up pulling up to a park that Adam and I used to come to all the time. In fact, it was the first place we ever had sex in. It was a colder night, with off and on rain, so nobody was out, but the night was perfect for us. We'd made love under a tree by the little pond on the far side of the park, the light rain splashing down on us. Most people would have thought it was weird or inappropriate, but it was perfect for us.

Grabbing a messenger bag from the back seat, I pulled it over my shoulder and climbed out of my car. I made sure to lock it up before slipping my keys into my bag and I took off across the park. I wasn't running but there was a briskness to my walk. I was at the pond in a matter of minutes and there wasn't anyone else there, thank God.

I settled up against the trunk of the tree that Adam made love to me under and I set my bag down next to me, pulling out a large sketchbook and a box of various colored and lead pencils. The sketched started out to be a very basic, simple drawing of the pond in front of me, a still life portrait. But it didn't like long to start sketching Adam and me under this tree. I ended up flipping to a new page to just sketch Adam and I making love under the tree.

"Drake?" I heard someone call and, for several short seconds, I was sure it was Adam, but when I looked up and saw the familiar flaming red hair, I was a little more than disappointed. Mark walked over to me and I quickly flipped to a blank page of my sketch book. I wasn't really ashamed of drawing Adam and I in such an intimate moment, but it was a little private to show to other people.

"Oh hey, Mark," I said. "What, are you following me now? Every time I leave the house, you seem to show up." I was teasing, that much was obvious, but he looked a little shocked that I'd suggested something like that.

"No… I mean, I wouldn't do something like that, it's just dumb luck or something, I guess," he rambled, looking a little flustered.

I raised my eyebrows, laughing softly. "Relax, Mark, I'm only joking with you," I told him. He blinked and then he laughed with me, sitting down with me. "So how've you been? I asked, my hand sweeping in patterns of wild roses and shrubbery.

"I've been alright…" Mark said. "Was getting kinda worried about you though," he added. I looked up at him, over the top of my sketch book. "I ran into Brad the other day and he said some people said some really rude things to you at the last art show you hosted and I…"

I blinked, frowning a little. God damn it, Brad. He didn't tell me anything about seeing Mark… "Oh, yeah well… a few people called me some pretty awful names and it… it hurt," I told him. "I've been trying to not let it bother me but it did…"

Mark frowned and he reached forward, trailing his fingers against the scars on my right cheek. I flinched a little but forced myself not to pull away from him. Why did everyone feel the need to touch them? Honestly… I hated it. "Drake… you know that you aren't anything those drunk assholes said you were," he whispered, cupping my cheek gently.

I smiled at him, blushing softly. "Thank you, I just… I've been having a hard time believe that lately. I've just been having a hard time opening up again and when those men said that stuff to me I just-" I was silenced by Mark's lips covering mine.

For a minute, I was so shocked, I didn't know how to react, but when he tried to deepen the kiss by sweeping his tongue across my lips, I put my hands flat against his chest and shoved him back. "What are you doing?" I exclaimed, staring wide-eyed at him.

"Come on, Drake… I like you, a lot…" he said, leaning back into me again. "Why don't you just kiss me back? I know you like me too," he added, pressing his lips to mine again. I slapped him hard across the face, shoving him away.

"I'm not going to kiss you back because I have a _boyfriend_!" I shouted at him. "I'm not going to kiss you back because my boyfriend is coming home in a few weeks! I'm not going to kiss you back because I'm in love with Adam Lambert!"

"Drake, don't you think that I can give you a more stable relationship?" he asked. "I'm not famous. I'm not going to have to leave you all the time! I can give you what Adam can't!"

"No… No, Mark, you really can't. You can't give me what Adam does because Adam is my lover. I'm _in love_ with Adam, okay? I'm so sorry that you like me so much and I don't like you that way, but I _love Adam_!" I said, standing up. "I'm sorry, Mark, but I can't… I just can't," I muttered, picking up my bag to leave.


	14. I'd Sacrifice My Beating Heart

**Chapter Fourteen: I'd Sacrifice My Beating Heart Before I'd Lose You**

**Adam's POV**

"Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelts. We will be descending into Los Angeles shortly," the captain said over the intercom of the plane. I stared, longingly, out the window next to my seat, seeing the beautiful city coming into view below me. It was early in the afternoon, and I had been flying since this morning, coming in from New York. I had my headphones tucked neatly into my ears, playing gentle music as I gazed out, a smile on my lips.

I was finally coming home. I was finally going to be able to see my friends, my family, and Drake…

A soft sigh of happiness washed itself from my lips and I reclined against my seat a little bit, letting my eyes slip shut. I was fortunate to have my seat in first class, near the back, so I was closer to the exit. There weren't many people in first class, and those that were there didn't pay me any mind, which I was very thankful for. I loved my fans, but I'd grown rather tired of taking pictures and signing autographs. I just wanted to go home and relax now.

But there was a nagging part of me that wondered just how relaxing my homecoming was going to be. Ever since Cassidy had called me and told me what happened to Drake… I'd been antsy. I'd been antsy and worried and fearful that Drake was going to be distant with me when I came back. I was afraid that he would think I wouldn't want him because of how he looked, or that he thought he wasn't beautiful enough anymore to be Adam Lambert's boyfriend…

I tried not to think about it like that, though. I tried my damndest to be positive about the whole thing. After everything that Drake and I had been through as a couple and separately, I had to be positive about a lot of things. But when it came to Drake's accident, I knew that he was going to need me. He was going to need to know that I still loved and cared about him. Which was true. I did. More than I could even try to say.

I let my eyes drift open again as I turned my head towards the window. Drake had said, time and time again with his phone calls, that he was often busy with art shows and his job, which meant he was out and about. So, maybe, he found himself attractive enough to go out into public, and maybe he wouldn't be so afraid when I came home? I sighed softly, biting down on my lower lip. I hated when I did things like this; overanalyze. Constantly worrying myself about what would happen when I came home when all I needed to do was just take it one step at a time.

Then again, though, Cassidy had told me that, after I called him and told him that I would be home soon, that some people had come to Drake's art show and said awful things to him about his appearance. And that, because of this instance, he'd fallen into a slump again. Was he still in that slump? I wasn't sure, and I hoped that the Universe had given him some sort of strength to overcome that. If nothing else, I would be there to help him out of his slump.

The plane tilted downwards, turning and aiming for the runway strip that would lead to the terminal. I sighed again, watching as land came closer and closer before we touched down, the plane sliding in smooth. I smiled softly to myself as it rolled along, turning once before coming to a stop. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I gathered my bag from the overhead compartment before hurrying off and down the covered walk way towards the terminal.

Fortunately, I'd asked Lane, my manager, if she would be willing to take care of my suitcases while I went to see Drake, and she'd said yes. So my only worry was my carry-on, which I had strapped over my shoulder and tucked at my side. I still had my headphones in, and I pulled my sunglasses from the side pocket of my bag, tucking them on over my face as I stepped into the terminal. No doubt some people would recognize me, but that was inevitable. Not to be conceited or vain, but I was a fucking superstar, of course people would recognize me.

Somehow, I'd made it through the terminals and down to the front of the airport without, really, being recognized by anyone. Some did double-takes, some stared and smiled, some, no doubt, took pictures from a distance, but no one approached me. I walked down towards the front doors, seeing Cassidy leaning against the giant electronic board that listed arrival and departure flights, waiting for me. I smiled when I saw him and he grinned back at me, opening his arms for me as I came up to him, hugging him tightly.

"It's good to have you home, Adam," he said in my ear, and I chuckled, pulling away from him to readjust my bag before walking out of the airport doors with him and out in the Los Angeles sunlight towards his car.

"Where's Brad and Drake?" I asked him, my boots scuffing against the pavement.

"They're at my apartment. I told them I had an errand to run and that I would be back shortly. My guess is they're just hanging out," he explained, and I nodded once. "So, how do you wanna show up? With me or, like, by yourself?" He asked. I bit down on my bottom lip as he unlocked his car, and I shoved my bag into the back seat, shutting the door before slipping into the front on the passenger side.

"By myself, preferably, you know? Maybe you can go in first, take Brad to another room and buzz me a text or something?" I suggested, and Cassidy smiled softly, nodding once to me as he started the engine of the car. Pulling out of the parking spot, Cassidy started driving back into town before I spoke again.

"So… How is he?" Cassidy glanced at me before looking up into his rearview mirror, changing lanes as he drove. He knew what I meant even without me saying Drake's name.

"He's alright. He's gone out a couple times, mostly alone, and he doesn't always tell us what he does other than he says that he just "goes out" for a while. He did say, once, that he went to the park to sit under the three that you two had sex under," I blushed faintly, staring out at the road as Cassidy spoke, "but that's it. He's done another few art shows since the incident with those drunk bastards, but not a whole lot. He's kind of reserved a lot of the time,"

I nodded once, licking my lips a little before I removed my sunglasses, staring down at them in my hands. There was a twinge of fear in my heart that I felt for a moment before I spoke to Cassidy, still staring at the glasses, "Has he met anyone?" It was probably stupid of me to ask, considering every time we spoke on the phone, he sounded so happy and still so in love… But maybe that was just me wishing too much…

Cassidy hesitated for a moment before sighing, "Yes. He met another artist named Mark a while ago, but he says he's not interested in Mark. And I can see that, but…" He trailed off and I glanced at him, raising an eyebrow.

"But?" Cassidy let out another breath.

"It's very obvious that Mark likes Drake. Perhaps a little too much," I nodded once, looking away again. I had hope, considering that Cassidy had said Drake wasn't interested in Mark, but… What if that wasn't really the case? What if they were saying that just so they wouldn't hurt me?

I didn't want to think of the possibility, but what if Drake did like Mark despite saying he didn't? What if Mark had been there to help Drake see that he was still beautiful? But that would make Drake seem desperate, and I knew for damned sure that he was _not_ desperate in the least… But to suffer an accident and believe you're unattractive only to have someone else come in and change your perspective? What if…

"Adam?" Cassidy's voice interrupted my thoughts, and I hadn't even realized I was starting to cry until he placed his hand over mine on my thigh as a tear rolled down my cheek. I blinked once, quickly wiping it away, though, I refused to look at my best friend, "He's still all yours… He's still in love with you. He still wants you," he whispered gently, glancing over at me now and then before turning off the highway and into more of the suburbs where he lived.

"I know.. I just.. Ever since you told me of his accident, I've been worried about him, and to know that someone else has, potentially, come into the picture, I… I want him to still be mine, but I don't want to ruin his happiness, either, if he's found it with someone else," I explained, my throat closing up some as I spoke.

"Adam, don't… He hasn't… I know Drake like I know you. He wouldn't leave you while you're away for someone he's only known for a few months, regardless of how Mark has or hasn't made him feel," Cassidy murmured to me, turning down a street towards his apartment. I sighed softly, wiping away tears for a moment before nodding once. I had to hope, right?

Cassidy pulled his hand away from mine as he turned into the apartment complex's parking lot, driving down the way towards his spot before pulling in. He leaned over, kissing my cheek gently before opening his door, slipping out and going to the front door. Quietly, I opened the passenger's door, crawling out and closing it, slinking up behind him before stepping off the side so I wouldn't be seen.

"Wait a couple minutes, alright?" He suggested gently, and I nodded once as he opened the door, stepping inside. Briefly, I saw Drake sitting on the couch with his back to me. His hair had grown out immensely before the door swung shut. I longed to just shove it open and go to him, but I had to surprise him, first. Sighing heavily, I could barely hear Cassidy talking to Drake and Brad before mentioning something like he needed to talk to Brad alone.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, checking my phone repeatedly, and when five minutes had passed, I just couldn't take it anymore. I inhaled deeply, sliding my phone back into my pocket before smoothing out my shirt, readjusting my jacket before letting out my breath, raising my hand and knocking on the wood of the door.

I heard Drake say "just a moment" on the other side, and I nearly melted, my heart beating furiously in my chest as I waited. I tucked my hands into the pockets of my jacket, glancing down at my shoes as I heard his footsteps before the door knob turned. I lifted my head a little, watching the door swing open wide with Drake standing there. His eyes swept from my feet to my hair and back down to my eyes. He stared, blinking once before the recognition dawned in his eyes and he gasped, raising a hand to his mouth. I smiled sweetly at him, pulling my hands from my pockets.

"Hey, baby," I said, and he launched himself to me, wrapping his arms around my neck with his face buried against my throat. I curled my arms around his waist, pulling him close as I tucked my nose into his hair, smelling delicious vanilla. I could feel Drake trembling with tears, and that made me start to cry, too. I bit down on my bottom lip, gently walking him backwards and into the apartment some.

I held Drake for a long time as we cried, both in happiness. Never had I felt so incredibly glad to be home and to see him again. Never had I felt so complete, either. Having Drake back in my arms was like having the missing half of my heart and soul reunited with me, and that only made me cry harder.

I pulled away from Drake's hold enough to look at his face. He bit down on his bottom lip, looking away from me and trying to hide the right side. I reached up, curling my fingers around his chin, tilting his head up and to the left to expose the scars that had hurt his self-image so badly. I choked quietly, seeing thin and healed lines looking like crosshatch on his skin completely cover his cheek and along his jaw, even down part of his neck. One stretched up across his eye and his forehead, but he seemed to see just fine.

My fingers trailed against the scars, and Drake flinched, still, obviously, uncomfortable with people touching this half of his face. I leaned forward, dragging kisses against the scars before my lips met his, and I kissed him deeply. He whimpered into my lips, his fingers tangling into my hair as I cupped his face tenderly with both of my palms, pouring my heart out for him.

My thumbs traced circles into both cheeks as I pulled away, resting my forehead against Drake's. He whimpered softly, tears still streaming down as he looked up at me. I smiled faintly, kissing him again, "I love you," I whispered into his lips, and Drake moaned softly, trembling in my hold.

"I love you," he murmured back. "I love you…"


	15. I'm Usually Getting In It

**Chapter Fifteen: When Everybody Else is Getting Outta Bed, I'm Usually Getting In It  
Drake's POV**

Since the day Adam left, I had been imagining his homecoming. I'd imagined, before my attack, that he would simply push me into the nearest wall and make sweet, blissful love to me right then and there. No words needed to be exchanged, just the silent declaration of love and being loved. After my attack, I'd imagined a wide range of things that could happen, Adam kissing me and telling me the scars didn't matter, Adam turning from me, being completely disgusted and, when I found myself in a good mood, that getting fucked against a wall thing always came back to me.

What actually did happen was something that, surprisingly, I never imagined. Yet it seemed to perfect.

Seeing Adam standing on the other side of the door was the last thing I ever expected. I thought that he still had a few weeks left on his tour, at least. When Adam smiled at me and said "Hey baby" I though I was going to faint, I was so shocked. Instead, I threw myself into his arms without thinking, burying my face into his neck. I tried my damnedest to hide my scars from him, but he was bound to see them at any time.

When he first saw them and gasped, I didn't take that as a good sign. I wanted to rip my chin out of his grasp and turn to run away, but then he caressed them, as if they were beautiful and he kissed them over and over again. I wasn't entirely sure how to take that, but I relaxed in his touch and when he kissed me- like I'd been waiting for since the moment he left- I greedily kissed him back, tears streaming my face.

We kept whispering over and over again about how we loved each other and we kept pushing tears off of each other's faces as we kissed, but eventually Adam pulled away. "Shush, baby…" he whispered, keeping my face in his gentle, smooth hands. "It's alright baby. You don't need to cry anymore, I'm home…"

I nodded as best I could. "Why didn't you freak out?" I asked him, shaking softly.

"Well… Cassidy and Brad told me what happened about a month ago… They made me promise not to tell you I knew because you didn't want me to worry about you while I was on tour," he explained, walking me over to the living room and sitting me down.

"I'm going to kill them…" I growled, shooting a glare in the direction of their bedroom. They _promised_ me they wouldn't tell him…

"Don't get too angry, Drake… They just wanted to help. They were so worried about you and I appreciate what you were trying to do by not telling me, but I'd like you to tell me everything, babyboo," he whispered, kneeling down in front of me. He reached out, taking my hands and lacing our fingers together. "I don't ever want you to feel like you can't tell me something, boo and I never want you to feel that these scars change how I see you."

I nodded again, blinking away tears. "I'm so sorry, Adam… I was just terrified that you wouldn't think I was your beautiful boy anymore…" I whispered, suddenly feeling guilty for every single time I doubted Adam's love for me.

"You will always be my beautiful boy, Drake, always," he whispered, leaning forward to catch my lips with his again. I moaned deeply, parting my lips enough to let his tongue roam the caverns of my mouth. I sucked on the muscle, missing the taste of Adam. You never truly know how much you love someone's scent and taste until they're gone. He pulled away after a moment, leaving us both flustered. "I have something for you, baby, but I left it in the car. Let me go get it real fast, alright?"

"Adam, you just got home and I just want-" I started, but he cut me off by shoving his tongue down my throat again, forcing a soft, strangled moan from deep within my chest.

"It'll only take me a moment," he insisted and before I could even protest, he was dashing out the front door. I minute later he returned with a duffle bag that was probably his carryon on his plane.

"That was longer than one minute, Adam," I told him and he stopped mid-step, blinking before laughing softly.

He walked back over to me, sitting down on the love seat with me. "My apologizes, my love," he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to my temple. Oh Adam, I love you, but you are such a cheese ball. He set the bag down on his lap and unzipped it. Mostly, it was filled with clothes which didn't shock me in the slightest. This was Adam after all. He pulled out a basket sized silver treasure chest engraved with my name on it. "I bought the box in Vegas, at that treasure planet hotel. I decided to carry it with me throughout the entire tour to fill with small things I found that I thought you might like." I opened my mouth, ready for my whole 'Adam, you didn't have to' speech, but he cut me off before I even started. "Before you protest, just remember that we've been apart for a long time and every time I saw something you would like, it brought me closer to you."

Adam set the box in my lap and then tossed his bag on the floor, which lead me to believe that there was absolutely nothing in it but this box and clothes. I sighed, knowing that if I tried to protest this any, he would probably get a little upset and pout, batting his unnaturally long eyelashes at me. What choice did I have?

Slowly, I opened the lid of the treasure chest, looking inside. It was filled with a variety of things from all over the world and I wasn't entirely sure where to start pulling things out. I ended up starting with a smaller velvet box. It held a simple Irish promise ring called a claddagh inside of it. Apparently Adam did listen when I rambled because I'd always wanted on.

He reached around my waist, plucking the ring from its spot on the cushions. "I know you know this, but it is a promise ring, love," he whispered, taking my left hand. He slipped the ring onto my ring finger and I stared at it, admiring it shining in the light. I had no doubt Adam sprung for real white gold instead of silver or sterling. He was just that kind of person, but he wouldn't every admit it because he, no doubt, knew I'd get upset if I knew he'd spent too much on it.

"It's beautiful, baby…" I whispered. Even if it did cost a lot, I couldn't be upset. It was too perfect.

"Keep going," he whispered, nodding his head through the chest. It took a while, because there were so many small trinkets and such in it, but Adam was right, they were all things I probably would have bought for myself if I had been to the places Adam went. They were all artsy or just too cute not to buy. Adam knew me far too well. Perhaps I should have been concerned, but the entire box was just such a moving gesture.

Eventually the end table was littered with all of Adam's gifts. I'd finally gotten to the last item in the box and when I picked it up, I was a little confused. It was a beautifully blown glass bottle, like the type that really rich women keep their sixty dollar an ounce perfumes in. "You bought me perfume?" I asked. Sure, I used a touch of nice smelling cologne, but perfume? No, sorry.

A light blush rushed across Adam's face and he smiled sheepishly. "This… isn't perfume, Drake," he said, taking the bottle from me. "It's… _Royale Amour_. It's a fancy French lubricant that smells and tastes fantastic…" His face was a crimson color, several shades darker than anything I'd ever seen him before. Adam wasn't usually one to be so shy about sexual matters.

"Is it now?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. He nuzzled his face into my cheek, kissing it gently.

"I couldn't resist the temptation, Boo," he whispered, nipping my earlobe gently. "It smelled so much like you…" He breathed into my ear, followed by him dipping his tongue into the shell of my ear. A shiver shot up my spine and I groaned, feeling a twitch under the zipper of my jeans. That was something I truly hadn't felt in a long time and it was almost alarming, how quickly Adam could make me need him.

"Well then… Why don't we give it a try?" I whispered. Before I knew what was happening, Adam had scooped me up into his arms and taken me down to the guest bedroom I had been using for the past months. He dropped me lightly on the bed and kicked the door shut behind us. His ocean eyes swimming with love and lust that I was sure reflected in my own eyes. We'd both been holding this in for far too long. We needed each other.

"I do have to admit, Drake, I like your hair better long," he said, shrugging out of his jacket and pulling his shirt up and over his head, letting both articles of clothing fall to the floor. He kicked out of his boots and pulled his belt out of the loops as he walked over to the bed. Thankfully it was a queen, but I wouldn't have cared if it was a twin. We would have fit. "It gives me more to hold onto."

I blushed wildly. Watching him strip was forcing blood right to my cheeks and my dick. Fuck, had it really been so long since we'd made love last? It felt like only yesterday… It was just so natural to us. He shimmied out of his jeans before he climbed up onto the bed. He really picked today to wear boxers? Honestly Adam?

He set the jar of fancy French lube down on the nightstand and pressed my back into the wall, kissing me fiercely. I growled, kissing him back just as intensely. His hands made quick work of stripping my tank and jeans, leaving me completely bare underneath him. You just couldn't wear skinny jeans with underwear. It looked way too fucking weird.

"Adam," I gasped, breaking out kiss. "Adam, that isn't fair," I whined, pawing at his boxers. He chuckled darkly, licking the underside of my jaw.

"Then take them off for me, baby," he mumbled into my skin. I pushed him away enough to push myself off the wall and push him onto his back. I pulled his boxers down, tossing them to the side before climbing over him, straddling his hips. He stared up at me, smirking a little. "Working fast tonight, huh baby?"

I blushed for the billionth time that night. "Can you blame me? I've missed you so much… and I've missed sharing my bed with you just as much," I told him, leaning down to catch his lips with mine again. My hair fell in front of my face, but Adam pushed it back, breaking the kiss. His fingers trailed over the more serious scars on the right side of my face.

"Adam…" I mumbled, turned my head a little, but his hand followed my cheek, turning my head back to face him.

"Don't Drake…" he whispered, leaning up to kiss me gently. I moaned, unable to help myself. "My beautiful, beautiful boy…" The gleaming in his eye told me something like 'disagree, I dare you'. I could only imagine the hours and hours of compliments I'd have to listen to if I told him I was anything less than beautiful. He ran his fingers over my face again, smiling softly at me. "Get the lube, baby. I need you…"

I pushed myself up, turning to pull the fancy bottle off of the nightstand. I opened it and a thick scent of vanilla flooded the room. "I see why you thought of me when you bought this," I said, turning back to face him. He smiled innocently at me and pushed himself up into a sitting position.

"Smells just like you," he said, taking the bottle from me. He splashed some out onto his fingers, coating them with thick layers. I moaned just from watching him rub the oil into the pads of his fingers. I knew exactly where they were headed and I could practically feel them already. He smiled, dropping his hand down between my already spread thighs, rubbing his middle finger against my entrance. I gasped, pushing back on his finger. The lube was cold and it electrified my nerve endings, sending shivers of pure pleasure right up my spine.

"F-Fuck, Adam…" I whined. He chuckled darkly, slipping the finger into me without warning. I cried out, tightening around him. Honestly, I felt bad for Brad and Cassidy. They were definitely going to hear me because, when it came to sex, I simply just didn't know how to keep quiet.

"Fuck you are so tight…" he mumbled, pushing a second finger into me and scissoring me. I whimpered, dropped my head some and grinding my hips down into his hand. He smirked a little. "But that doesn't seem to make you any less eager…"

"Shuddup, Adam…" I gasped as he added a third and practically punched into me. I was amazed that I was even able to stay in this squatting position because my entire frame was shaking with pleasure.

He chuckled, licking my face teasingly. He managed to get four fingers shoved fully into me and when they hit that spot, I nearly exploded right then and there. "Fuck!" I cried, biting down on my bottom lip to attempt silence. I knew that it would be useless but it was worth a shot.

"Lay down and let me take care of you," Adam mumbled, pulling his fingers out of me. I was shaking but I shook my head anyway. I wasn't feeling much like being on the bottom tonight, so I pushed Adam's shoulders down into the mattress and picked up the bottle of lube again. I coated my fingers with it and began massaging it into his dick, slicking him up as much as I could. Normally I wouldn't care to use so much lube and prep but we haven't had sex in quite some time and I didn't want to hurt myself too badly on him. "Baby…" Adam moaned, shoving his hips up. "What are you doing?"

"Shush," I whispered, straddling his hips, my ass just inches above his. I leaned down, pressing my lips to Adam's again. He moaned loudly, cupping my face with his hands and deepening our kiss. By the time it broke, I was whining, practically begging him without words to take me. I even grinded my ass against his dick to emphasize what I wanted and just how much I wanted- no- needed it.

Adam laughed softly, his hands dropping to my hips. "My beautiful, beautiful boy… Aren't you a little naughty tonight," he mused, smirking and pushing my hips back just enough to give him perfect entry into me. The head of his erection pushed into me first and I gasped, crying out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Being stretched so much (face it ladies, your fantasies about how big Adam's penis is aren't even close) after so long of not having sex hurt, but it felt amazing.

I pushed down on him, our hips meeting after several seconds of agonizing stretching. "Fuck… Adam…" I whined. He laughed again, his hands trailing from my hips to my rib cage, tickling me lightly. Unlike most people, I found tickling to be a huge turn on and Adam knew all the places I was most ticklish. Right at the bottom of my rib cage just happened to be one of those places. "Fuck you, Lambert!" I hissed, squirming a little but Adam pushed his hips up into me, forcing a strangled cry from my lips.

Reaching down, I fisted the blankets tightly in my hand, moving my hips slowly with Adam's. He swiveled his hips up into me and I came down on him to meet every thrust. There was absolutely nothing gentle about this, but it wasn't desperate and fast. We wanted to make our love making last and this was doing that quite nicely.

Adam's cock kept pressing right up into that pleasure spot, making me see stars each time it happened. I was making every sound you'd ever expect to hear from the filthiest porno you could find and I wasn't ashamed of it.

I tightened around Adam just as he was shoving back into me. He gasped, his eyes going wide. "Fucking bitch…" he growled at me and I smiled as innocently as I could manage in this position. Adam and I were creative when it came to sex. We'd tried so many different positions, I couldn't even keep track of them all, but this was definitely one of my favorites. It let me take in every last centimeter of Adam. "Fucking Hell, Drake… I'm so close," Adam panted with another swivel of his hips.

His thrusts were coming more erratically, more desperate and I was crying out like a bitch in heat, practically screaming every time his hips connected with mine. "A-Adam…" I moaned, dropping one of my hands to palm my own member. It only took three strokes and Adam shoving up into me to hit that spot again. I came with a loud scream. Hopefully the neighbors didn't hear because they probably would have thought I was being attacked. Not that it mattered in this city…

I couldn't hear Adam for a while. I couldn't hear anything but my heartbeat pounding inside my head. I was only aware of warm gooiness filling my insides and falling forward, burying my face into Adam's throat. Adam's arms looped around my sweaty for and he slipped out of me carefully, pulling a hoarse cry from my lips. I probably wouldn't have much of a voice tomorrow…

"I love you…" I mumbled quietly, wondering if I could even be heard.

Adam rolled us onto our sides, holding me close to his chest. "I love you too," he whispered, pulling a light blanket up to our waists. At least we were, somewhat, modest.


	16. Touched So Gently You Had To Cry

**Chapter Sixteen: Have You Ever Been Touched So Gently You Had To Cry?**

**Adam's POV**

To be honest, after yesterday, I didn't want to get out of bed and leave Drake's arms. After we first made love and took a small nap, we woke up in the late afternoon, almost early evening, and just kissed and kissed, barely touching each other. I recommitted to memory the feel of Drake's skin, the way he tasted and what spots made him arch and moan beneath my touch. What pressure made him gnaw on his lip and what spot, when bitten, just made him wail.

In addition to the map of his body, I memorized the crosshatch of scars on his face with my fingers and my lips, loving them and cherishing them like they were a gift from God. At first, when I started this, Drake shied away from me, whining softly and wanting to bury his face against my chest. But after a while, I managed to get him to stay still, lying flat on his back with his eyes closed as I let my fingers and my mouth wander, tasting and feeling the scars. How smooth were they, how wide were they? How many of them crossed over the same general area? How long or short were they? How deep did they cave in?

We'd stayed in bed all night. We didn't leave the bedroom at all; we were merely wrapped up in each other's arms, relishing in the memories from before and the love we still had now. If it was, at all, possible, I loved Drake even more with the scars. I loved him even more because it showed that he lived through a traumatic experience. He made it through for me and for himself. He survived and I couldn't thank him enough for pushing through all the months that I'd been away… Months that I needed to make up for him.

It didn't take long for our kissing and caressing to progress to something warmer and sweeter, though; we made sweet, sweet love again. This time, however, it was slower. It was gentle and strong. Drake didn't scream in ecstasy, probably because it was one in the morning and, as it was, we were already tired. Instead, his gasped and moaned gently. And, unlike the first time, Drake was beneath me, his legs wrapped around my hips, pushing me deeper with every thrust in. We kissed passionately with our hands joined, our fingers laced and palms flat against one another by his head on the pillow.

The second time lasted much longer than the first. I made it my note to take my time with Drake, moving slower and deeper. Instead of ravaging his neck like I was a crazed animal, I savored his taste. I bathed in his sweat and his essence as I fucked him sweetly, squeezing his hands with mine as I moved in him, pushing deeper and deeper with every thrust. Drake would tilt his head back, panting softly with his eyes screwed shut in ecstasy as I licked at the saltiness of his sweat from the conjunction of his neck, before silencing his loudest moans by breathing them in, tasting his tongue and his lips like they were pieces of candy.

It was a little after nine in the morning, and I was half-laying on top of Drake, my fingertips trailing along the lines of his jaw and down his neck before sweeping back up over his lips and into his hair, pushing the silky strands away from his face. He breathed evenly, staring up lovingly at me as my fingers made circles and patterns into his flesh. I smiled at him, leaning down to kiss him gently, my tongue darting out to taste the warm and wet cavern of his mouth.

Drake moaned softly, his hand sliding up along my arm, over my shoulder and into my hair, pulling gently on it as I deepened our kiss, palming his scarred cheek in my hand. He didn't flinch— probably because he was so wrapped up in our kiss. I had made it a mental note to try and help Drake break the habit of flinching when someone touched his scars. There was nothing wrong with them, and I wanted to help him see that.

I shifted, sliding over Drake completely, hovering above him as I kissed him hard. I wanted nothing more than to keep kissing him and make more love to him; to feel him coming undone beneath me and knowing that he was still all mine and I was still his… I wanted to love him to make up for all the months that I'd been away and for all the pain that he'd felt from his attack.

"Adam," Drake moaned into my mouth, pulling harder on my hair. I growled, pulling away from his lips to press kisses into his neck. My teeth grazed along the underside of his jaw, pulling soft and delicate moans from his throat as I nipped the skin, tasting the vanilla scent of his body. Or maybe it was the _Royale Amour._ It could've been both.

"Adam, baby… baby, stop," Drake mumbled softly, and I groaned, pulling away from the hickey that I was just about to leave in his throat, "We have somewhere to be soon, and if you keep kissing me like this, we'll never get there," he told me and I whined softly. I didn't want to go anywhere today. I just wanted to stay with Drake and love him and hold him like I'd been wanting to since the day I left for my tour.

"No… Stay here with me, Drake," I mumbled into his neck, kissing the spot that I had intended to mark, but Drake flattened his hands on my chest, pushing me back just a little, "Why?" I asked, looking down at him.

"Because… I have to do an art show to do this afternoon. And there's something that I want to show you while we're out," he said with a soft smile before leaning up to kiss me again. I moaned gently, palming his face in my hands briefly before breaking our kiss, smiling at him.

"Fine," I said, "but we need a shower first. I refuse to go anywhere smelling like sex," I commented, and Drake laughed softly, running his fingers through my hair.

"Funny, considering a good half of your fans would probably melt on the spot if you passed them by reeking of recent sex. They'd probably bombard you with questions on who the lucky guy was," Drake joked, letting his hand rest on the back of my neck for a moment.

"And then I would tell that that my lucky boo is named Drake LaBry, and that he's a brilliant artist and I love him with all of my heart," I whispered, kissing him again. Drake's face flamed a brilliant shade of red as he tucked his head into the crook of my neck. I laughed softly, running my fingers through Drake's hair gently, "I love you," I whispered to him, kissing his forehead.

Drake lifted his head slowly, smiling brightly before kissing me sweetly, "I love you, too, baby,"

Unfortunately, my attempts, in the shower, to have Drake change his mind about leaving for the art show failed me. We'd gotten all heated and into our kiss and, somehow, the sneaky fucker reached behind me and turned the hot water to ice cold, killing off the hard-ons were beginning to sport before forcing me to finish cleaning in the cold.

We were both dressed in similar attire; Drake and I were both wearing black, form-fitting skinny jeans— though I could, clearly, see that his were just a little baggy on him around the thighs— grey tanks and an overshirt. I wore my black and blue plaid flannel shirt, Drake wore a deep, solid blue flannel shirt. His hair was styled around his face to frame his bone structure and still, somewhat, cover the scars on the right half of his face. A touch of liner around his eyes and he was absolutely gorgeous.

I took a little more of a soft-yet-glamorous approach. My hair was styled to have a little volume, but, by no means, was it styled, at all, in the way that I'd had it for Glam Nation. It was calm, pleasing to the eye without being over the top. Thick, smudged eyeliner with a sweep of glittery charcoal shadow, dusted with a light silver below my eyebrows to give the contrast. Needless to say, Tommy— Tommy, of all people!— had given me a few tips on makeup before the end of the tour.

Pressing a kiss to Drake's cheek, I took his hand in mine as we made our way through the glass double doors of the studio in which his show was set up. The walls were all white, covered in canvases and framed photographs, the floors a polished hardwood. There were a few columns dotted out that homed smaller paintings and photographs, all illuminated by lights.

Just taking that first step into the studio and seeing all of the different pieces that were connected together made my heart soar. I'd never felt more proud of Drake in my entire life for being able to accomplish so much. All artists were different, I knew, but I couldn't think of any of them having quite the passion that Drake did. I knew him; some days he'd come up with an idea that would take weeks to finish. Other days, he'd have an idea and have it whipped to perfection in a matter of hours…

"Baby," I whispered, my eyes unable to stay in one particular place for long. Drake smiled warmly, tightening his hold on my hand as he led me through the studio, no doubt in the path that his show was set up. We'd gotten here just a few minutes early so that he could show me his work before a bunch of people started to arrive. He'd told me that I could leave before they all came, but I wanted to stay with him, at his side. I'd just come back; I didn't want to leave again.

"This is gorgeous," I told him, leaving a kiss in his hairline as he led me from the front left corner to the back right. Drake's boss had let us in, since he'd been here for most of the morning, and he was standing off in a corner on the phone with someone. Drake's smile never left his face as he pulled me along.

"There's something I want to show you," Drake told me, pulling me to the back corner. I frowned softly, following him before we came to a stop in front of a large canvas that nearly took up a section of the wall, floor to ceiling.

The first thing that I noticed was the fact that it was a gloriously detailed painting, full of rich colors and beautiful design.

The second thing that I noticed was that it was a painting of me, holding someone in my arms. The closer I looked, the more I realized that it looked like Drake, from back before I left for the tour, when his hair was still short. Drake, in the painting, was turned away from the viewer, the painting more focused on the smile on my face and the absolute _love_ in my expression.

I was at a loss for words as I stared at the painting, my eyes taking in every line, every curve, ever color, my mind imagining Drake spending hours upon hours painting a canvas of this size. Tears stung my eyes as I pulled Drake close to my, resting my cheek against the top of his head, gazing up at the painting. My heart was pounding in my chest, unable to react properly to the magnitude of this work.

"Drake…" I whispered, a tear rolling down my face, "It's beautiful," I told him, choking up a little, my heart lodging itself in my throat.

"I painted it shortly after you left.. I.. I don't know why came over me for it, I just… I had a vision and the next day I started working on it. I painted it and painted it until I was done. The whole thing took me about a week to finish, and I'm so proud of the result," Drake explained, his voice soft and shaky with what I could only imagine to be tears. I smiled warmly, looking down at him to see glistening tears in his eyes.

"I love it, Drake. It's gorgeous," I whispered, tucking a finger under his chin to lift his head a little before kissing him sweetly. Drake moaned softly against my lips, loud enough that I heard it, but quiet enough that the people who were starting to file into the studio couldn't even dream to hear it. I pulled away from his lips, caressing his cheek tenderly before a voice caught my attention.

"Drake?" First, the voice was male, which made my heart skip a beat as I looked up in his direction. Second, he was fairly attractive, standing at about my height with flaming red hair and brilliant blue eyes. I imagined that he was built like Cassidy, lanky and lean but comforting and strong. Third, there was an unexplainable desire that began to boil in my stomach, telling me to punch this man dead in the face.

"Mark?" Drake acknowledged, obviously startled. Mark's eyes shifted from Drake's to mine, and a recognition dawned in his face that told me he knew that, not only was I Adam-fucking-Lambert, but I was also Drake LaBry's boyfriend. And I'd just come home.


	17. You Know When You Get That Feeling?

**Chapter Seventeen: You Know When You Get That Feeling? I Don't Have It…  
Drake's POV**

Since the day I slapped Mark for trying to kiss me, he hadn't shown up at any of my art shows. I wasn't entirely sure if I should be upset or if this was a blessing in disguise. I should have known that his absence wouldn't last long. And, of course, the first show he shows up to in almost three weeks, is the show I brought my boyfriend, Adam Lambert, to.

"Mark?" I asked, staring at him in disbelief. What were the odds that as soon as I brought Adam to a show, Mark would start coming again? Honestly, it left me feeling a little awkward, like he'd known Adam was going to be here, or something. Perhaps I was just being paranoid.

Adam's arm snaked around my waist, pulling me flush tight against his side. Adam's build was bigger than mine, sure, but we were almost the same height. "Who's this?" Adam asked, his tone almost possessive. Was he already feeling threatened by Mark? Or did Mark just give him a strange vibe? Like Adam had a sixth sense to tell if another boy had romantic interests in me.

"This is Mark…" I mumbled, turning my head a little to look into Adam's blue eyes. "I met him a little while after the attack… He was kind of just a friend who helped me through a rough spot. Like, you know, Cass and Brad. It was just different because he didn't have to be so nice…" I could see Adam shoot a glare over towards Mark. Obviously he didn't like my description of the other man.

"You never mentioned him on the phone…" Adam mumbled, looking back at me, a frown tugging his lips in a south bound direction. Fuck you, Mark! He'd just been grinning like a love drunk idiot two minutes ago!

"Baby," I mumbled, kissing him gently on the lips. "He's just a friend, okay? He's not anything more than that." Though I was sure Adam believed me, I didn't think he trusted Mark. In reality, he didn't have a reason to trust Mark. Mark had repeatedly made his interest in me clear, when no one else was around. He's even kissed me under that tree Adam and I had sex under in the park! He also didn't really seem to be able to take a hint… I felt bad that I kept shooting him down, but couldn't he see that I was already in love with someone?

Adam nodded a little, seeming to calm himself down, probably by counting backwards mentally, or something. "Well, it's always great to meet Drake's friends…" he said, turning back to Mark with a mostly forced smile. "It's so good to meet you." That was a load of shit. It Adam were really happy to meet him, he'd be talking his ear off or something.

Mark nodding a little to Adam as a half assed way of saying 'nice to meet you too'. Neither of them meant it. They both seemed to be rather jealous of each other… Mark had a reason to be jealous, sure, but Adam? Hadn't we made hours and hours of love the night before? I would never dream of cheating on him. I just loved him too much. Even his tour and my attack didn't lessen my love for him.

"Drake? Do you think I could talk to you for a minute? Like, alone?" Mark asked, glancing at Adam for a moment before looking back at me.

I gave Adam a quick glace, as if saying 'I'm sorry, I'll be right back', before I nodded. "Sure…" I mumbled, pulling myself out of Adam's arms. I walked towards the other side of the studio with Mark, making sure to keep several noticeable inches between us. "What's this all about, Mark?" I asked him once we were out of Adam's hearing distance. "You can't honestly be upset or mad that Adam is here. You… You know how I feel about him and you know how I feel about you." I didn't want to sound crude or harsh, but Mark just didn't seem to understand that I didn't like him the way he liked me.

"Drake… I just don't really think that you should, you know, jump right back into his arms the minute he comes home. Are you just going to let him go off for months at a time for the rest of your relationship? Waiting for the day he returns? What kind of life is that?" Mark asked, glancing back at my boyfriend before looking me in the eyes. "Is that really the kind of lover you want?"

"Mark…" I mumbled, staring at him. This wasn't something he should be lecturing me about. People who had known me for a long time, like Cassidy, Brad or my sister, could have this kind of over protectiveness of me, but someone I'd met just a few months ago? Who I really didn't see outside of art shows and the occasional running into him on the street or coffee shop, or something.

I'd recently become addicted to coffee. Adam always complained about my smoking habit, so I did everything I could to stop. When I finally managed to, I needed a substitute, which just happened to be caffeine. What better way to get it than coffee? Starbucks was making a fortune off of me.

"I just don't think that he's going to be able to give you what you need, Drake… What kind of boyfriend just gets up and leaves for months at a time without considering how that makes his lover feel? I just think that, maybe, you should give it a little thought before jumping back into bed with him…" he said, sounding genuinely concerned, but his words merely pissed me off.

"What the fuck would you know about what I need, Mark?" I growled. "Adam's been my boyfriend for a long time! Since before he was even on Idol! He took my feelings about him leaving for tour very serious. The first thing he asked me is if I wanted him to stay. The second thing he asked was if I wanted to go with him. He takes care of me, Mark! He _loves_ me! And, not that it's really any of your business, but I spent all fucking night in bed with him!"

Mark looked horrified at my mentioning I'd already slept with Adam. His look of shock faded into something that looked a littler terrifying and I, instinctively, took a step back. "You already fucked him? That was quick…" he growled, his eyes narrowing a little.

"Excuse me? Quick? No. I've been dating him for a long fucking time, Mark. I think I have every right to sleep with him, if I choose. Who the fuck are you to judge me?" I hissed back. Now I was just angry. If Mark wanted a chance with me, he needed to stop acting like my father and grow the fuck up, not that I'd ever, really, consider dating him. I have Adam and Adam is really all I need.

"I'm just saying… Adam may not be the same guy anymore. Fame and money does shit to people. You'd probably be better off dating someone more like you. You know, someone with more of an average life," he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh, so now I'm average?" I retorted. "That's definitely not something to say to someone when you like them. And you know what else, Mark? You're really starting to piss me off. I'm sorry that I don't like you the way that you like me, I'm sorry, alright? But I can't just force myself to love you. I can't stop loving Adam for your sake, okay? I'm fucking sorry!"

I was so blinded by my rage, I didn't even realize Mark had grabbed a hold of me and shoved me into the wall, right next to one of my larger paintings, until my back hit the cold surface. "You don't want to admit that you like me because you want to spare your boyfriend's feelings. Remember the first night we met? You blushed at every little fucking thing I said, Drake! You left me get really up close and personal when we were dancing. I'd certainly hope you don't let everyone grope your ass like that. You do like me, you're just so wrapped up in having a super star boyfriend, you don't even realize that he's going to tear your life apart!"

His hands were painfully holding my upper arms to the wall and I whimpered. "You don't know what you're talking about, Mark," I growled, staring up at him. "Now please let me go, you're hurting me!"

Mark sneered at me, but before he could say anything further, Adam was at our sides, pushing Mark off of me. Mark turned towards him, growling. "What the fuck are you doing?" Mark hissed. "Drake and I are trying to have a discussion without you."

"Doesn't look like a fucking discussion to me," Adam hissed back, looping his arm around me again. "I don't ever want to see you touch Drake like that again, understood?"

"I'll do whatever the fuck I please, thanks," Mark retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "You might think Drake loves you, but you're going to ruin his life. He'll figure that out eventually. I just really hope you haven't shattered his heart by then… You already left him once. Not to mention how many times you made out with that blond kid while you were away…" Mark turned away, going to leave, but Adam moved to pull him back. I could see it in his eyes, the pure rage and hatred he felt for Mark now.

I reached forward, taking Adam's hand in mine. "Adam don't… He's not worth it, he's just mad that I won't give him the time of day…" I said, looping my fingers with his. "It's alright, baby, please don't get so upset. You know none of that's true…"

Adam sighed, turning back to face me. "Why didn't you tell me about him?" he whispered, his eyes softening. I could see the pain and fear swirling in his whirlpool eyes.

"I just… at first he was just a nice guy, but then he started hitting on me and he kissed me once. I slapped him, telling him that he knew I had a boyfriend that I loved. He never really pushed the issue much, but after I slapped him, I stopped seeing him, until today, that is. He just kind of helped me feel a little better about myself. I just didn't really think he was an issue until the day he kissed me…" I mumbled, frowning a little. "I'm sorry, baby…"

Adam leaned forward, pressing his lips to mine gently. I moaned quietly, tangling my fingers into his hair and kissing him back. I heard a few cameras go off, which forced a blush to creep across my face. I was glad that the scars on my cheek were covered mostly by Adam's hands and my hair. Adam broke our kiss, ignoring the people who were staring at us. He was just used to it, I still wasn't. He pressed his forehead against mine. "I'm not angry with you, baby, but if I see him touch you like that again… I'll rip his balls off," he mumbled so no one overheard him.

I nodded some. "I don't blame you, baby," I whispered. "I love you…"

"I love you too," he said, pressing another gentle kiss to my lips. I heard a few more camera shutters, but I did my best to ignore them. "Now go work your magic so you can make money and then I can take you out to dinner, alright?"

"Okay baby. Just a couple of hours, alright? Then you can take me wherever you'd like," I said, kissing him again. We pulled apart, but Adam followed me around like a lost puppy for the entire show. It was beyond adorable, but I could really only think about Mark and why he'd come in here acting like such a freak. The more I thought about him today, the more I wanted to punch him.


	18. They're Explosions In The Sky

**Chapter Eighteen: These Clouds We're Seeing, They're Explosions In The Sky**

**Adam's POV**

Had Drake not pulled me back, I would have ripped Mark's balls off and punched him in the face. In front of the dozens of people who had come to Drake's art show, I would have gladly grabbed him by the throat, give a hard swing to his nose before tearing him apart. And why? Because he laid hand on my Babyboo.

On the surface, people see me as being a calm, friendly, outgoing and open individual. I like being honest with fans and the media and showing who I am as a person, because I feel like artists spend too much time hiding who they are and really trying to make this image of who their fans want them to be. I hate that. I'm close to my friends and family and I've made it clear on a number of times that you don't mess with them. But even deeper than that, if you fuck with my boyfriend, I will not hesitate to fuck you up.

Mark's comments that I was going to hurt Drake and ruin his life were harsh, but when he brought Tommy into the equation I saw nothing but red. The quote-un-quote romance between myself and Tommy was nothing but fan service for the shows that we put on with the band. It was all about rock and roll and having a good time making music and putting it out there. Drake knew that better than anyone. He understood it, accepted it and knew that he was my only love. Hell, he was even best friends with Tommy.

The remaining hours of the art show passed by like a slug, almost. While I loved looking at all of the art pieces and hearing all the stories behind them, I really just wanted to take Drake by the hand and drag him from the studio. I wanted to take him out to a nice, quiet dinner with some delicious food, maybe some wine, before taking him back to my condo to make sweet, passionate love to him for the rest of the night. Fuck, for the rest of the week would be nice.

But I had to stay put with Drake. I followed him around, clutching his hand as often as I could when he wasn't preoccupied with dealing with customers and critics. It was nice talking to some of the people who loved his work and my music, and I was thankful that, for the most part, there weren't as many hard-core and screaming fans around. I think I would have shot someone if that happened simply because of the lingering rage from Mark.

The crowd dispersed as the hours grew later and Drake and I had finally made our way out to a nice Italian restaurant in the heart of downtown Los Angeles. We were able to get a private booth near the back of the building, close to a side exit so that we wouldn't have to walk back through the main floor again and risk being seen and swarmed by fans. Needless to say, our hostess was a wonderful woman.

Seated for barely a few minutes and just looking at the menus, a waiter came by with the house-special wine, pouring us each a taste before filling our glasses respectively and leaving the bottle at our table. I smiled at Drake, taking a small drink before reaching across the table, sliding my palm into his. He looked up at me through the curtains of his hair and he blushed, squeezing my hand.

"You look beautiful." I told him and he looked away, blushing still.

"I've looked better, baby," Drake muttered, "You know that." I frowned a little, shaking my head.

"What do you mean by that?" I questioned and Drake lifted his head, nonchalantly tucking part of his hair behind his ear, exposing a little more of his scarred cheek and I sighed, squeezing his hand again. "Baby… You know that doesn't bother me. It will never bother me. What does bother me is the fact that you don't believe me." Drake's gaze lowered some as he spoke.

"I do believe you… I just don't believe that I am beautiful." I smiled shyly.

"That's a little contradictory, love. You believe me when I say you're beautiful yet you don't believe you're beautiful?" I teased and Drake rolled his eyes, but he still didn't look at me. He stared, instead, at our hands before taking a drink of his wine.

"I'm sorry.." Drake trailed off after a moment, but part of me suspected that he wasn't speaking of his contradicting statement from before. I frowned, tilting my head to the side a little.

"For what?" Drake bit his lip.

"For the whole thing at the show today. With Mark. I… I should have made him leave before he said those things to you." Drake said softly and I sighed, shaking my head a little, pulling his attention up to me.

"Baby, that wasn't your fault, alright? You were trying to be a good host and he was just being a douche. I don't blame you for anything, okay?" Drake nodded once, the glisten of tears in his eyes. I let go of his hand, sliding out of my side of the booth to slip down the small width of the table and into his side, pulling him close to me. "Drake, please don't cry, okay? It's okay…"

"I just… I don't know what his problem is. He was so nice at first and he was just being a good friend and helping me get back on my feet and then he started showing interest in me and now… Now he's spewing this bullshit that you're going to hurt me and that you're not good for me and I know that he's wrong. I know in my heart that he is, I just don't understand why he's saying this…"

"It's because he's jealous, baby. You said it yourself, he has interest in you. By the sounds of things, he has a lot of interest in you," I said, gritting my teeth a little as I drew Drake closer to me, wrapping my arms tightly around him. "And he's just trying to make you doubt your love for me. He's trying to break us apart and I won't let him do it because he's a silly, jealous boy and I love you.." I told him, pressing a hard kiss to his forehead. Drake whimpered softly, leaning heavily into me.

"Baby?" He whispered softly, and I hummed in response. "After dinner… Let's go to the park. To our tree, okay?" He suggested and I smiled a little, kissing his hair.

"Anything for you."

The dinner, consisting of pasta and chicken with bread sticks and the on-the-house wine, was perhaps one of the best I'd had in months. I'd decided to stay with Drake on his side of the booth through the entire thing, holding him close and feeding him a few bites of his food. Overall it was very cute and relaxing, the perfect buildup to the night we wanted to spend at the park.

With the meal paid for, Drake and I made our way back to his car (mine was still parked in the garage of my condo, where it had been for several months). I slid into the driver's seat as Drake went to the passenger side, starting the engine before taking his hand as I drove off down towards the park that we were so in love with. The stereo played my CD gently, purring out Time For Miracles, and I smiled to myself. Drake blushed beside me, refusing to look in my direction while the song played.

"Why are you so flustered, baby?" I asked, squeezing his hand a little as I turned down another street, driving away from the more urban parts of L.A. and into the rural.

"Because… This is the only CD I've been listening to since you left." I smirked some to myself, glancing over at Drake.

"So? There's no shame in that, love." I told him, taking another turn and passing several book stores and small shops, signs displaying the name of the park coming into view and I turned right.

"I know there isn't, but still. It's.. It's not really embarrassing, but you know what I mean." I nodded once, smiling tenderly in his direction as I turned and parked along the street right near the park. The pond glistened in the moonlight while the trees rustled quietly with a soft breeze. My smile widened some as Drake and I climbed out of the car, locking it up tight before walking hand in hand down the path.

"When was the last time we were here, together?" Drake asked and I chuckled a little, walking close beside him.

"It was before I left for my tour, that's for sure. But I must say the most memorable night at this park was when it was raining and we made love. I'll never forget it." I told him, turning my head to leave a kiss into his hairline. Drake moaned quietly, turning to me as we stopped in the middle of the path on our way to our tree, looking up at me in the moonlit night.

"Shall we revisit that night?" He suggested and I moaned quietly, running my fingers through his hair gently.

"I believe so… But there's one problem, baby," I began and he frowned, "It's not raining." He smiled a little.

"It doesn't have to." Pulling me by the hand, Drake guided me down the long path that swerved between benches and trees before crossing through the short-cropped grass and to our tree. My heart was skipping beats in my chest as I followed him before pulling him close, kissing him tenderly.

"Remember how we were, love? Leaning against the tree, kissing and barely touching.." I trailed off, pulling Drake down to his knees with me, sliding my hand up his chest, along his neck and into his hair. He moaned, turning into the touch as I left an open-mouthed kiss to his jaw, earning another quiet moan.

"You were shirtless, though, and that gave me plenty of opportunity to tease your nipples." Drake smirked, trailing his hands along the hem of my shirt before bringing them up to unbutton my plaid shirt, pushing it off of my shoulders. I had a black tank beneath it that he removed easily over my head, kissing me gently after he set it aside. I moaned into his lips, sliding my hand down his chest, pulling the buttons free of his own shirt, pulling it off of his shoulders. A cool wind kissed our shoulders and necks and he shivered against me.

"We kissed and kissed and you teased by stripping in front of me.." I added, smirking a little as Drake frowned.

"No I didn't…"

"No, but you should." His eyes flashed and he smirked back at me, nipping the side of my neck before pulling away, standing up in front of me. I leaned against the tree, disregarding the bark digging into my freckled skin as I pulled my belt open, popping the buttons of my jeans and undoing my zipper.

Drake's eyes flashed with a look of lust as he knelt down onto his knees in front of me, bringing his hand up to the hem of his tank, slowly dragging it up his stomach. The pale wash of his skin glowed in the moonlight as he raised he shirt, trailing his fingers over a nipple, arching into his own touch. I bit down on my bottom lip, watching as he slowly peeled his shirt away, a necklace of mine falling back against his chest, resting in the space between his nipples.

He brought a hand up, teasing and pinching his nipple, letting his head fall back with a moan and I felt heat coil itself in my stomach. I groaned as Drake dropped his free hand to his denim-covered growing erection, palming and rubbing it, grinding into his own hand. Inhaling deeply, I forced myself to keep from shoving a hand down my own jeans and instead clenched my fists, gnawing on my bottom lip.

Drake brought his head up, his hair pushed back away from his face like a lion's mane. His eyes were closed and his mouth open in pleasure. He pushed up into his hand again, dropping the one that was teasing his nipple to his jeans, slowly pulling the button and zipper free. I watched as he bit down on his bottom lip, tugging his jeans open enough to free his erection, which curved up towards his stomach. I moaned as he palmed in, arching deeply into his touch as he stroked it once, palming his balls with his other hand.

"Fuck, Drake…" His wrist twisted as his hand pulled, tugging on his dick until it was pulsing in his grip. I moaned, licking my lips as I slid a hand into my own jeans, gently rubbing my aching hard on. Drake's eyes were closed in pleasure, a soft blush on his face as he thrust into his hand. His chest rose and fell with every deep breath that he took, the necklace a dark contrast against his skin.

I kicked my jeans off entirely, reaching forward to grab Drake's wrist, stopping his pleasure. He whined, opening his black eyes to stare me down, and I gasped, letting go. The blue orbs I loved so passionately were blown away by desire, and he almost looked like a different person. He crawled forward, kicking off his jeans as he pushed me back onto my knees, crawling on top of me. His arms snaked around my shoulders and neck as he pressed himself flat against me. My dick slid between his cheeks, pressing into the tight ring of his entrance.

"Baby…" I moaned, pressing a kiss to his jaw, my hands clenching tightly to his hips. Drake inhaled shakily, threading his fingers into my hair to pull my head back and kiss me hard, sinking down onto me like he was born to do it. I gasped softly, pushing into him slow and gentle until gravity took over and brought him down completely onto me. "God…" I groaned, kissing his neck.

"Adam," he whined, "Adam, please…"

I pressed another kiss into Drake's throat when I felt something hit my shoulder. I paused, glancing at the skin in the moonlight to see a clear drop, glistening in the faint light. I smiled softly as another drop joined it, followed by another in my hair. "Baby?" I whispered, kissing Drake sweetly. He hummed in response.

"It's raining…" I told him, and Drake moaned deeply, kissing me hard as I rocked my hips up into him, thrusting slow yet intense with passion. Drake gasped, crying out quietly when I swiveled my hips, driving hard into him. The drops of rain began to come frequently, hitting the leaves above us. The pond rippled with rain, the soft sound of water pattering on water and leaves and skin being the only sound to cover our moans.

I pressed kisses into Drake's neck and jaw, nipping here and there before licking at the marks. His fingers were tangled in my hair, holding on as I fucked him tenderly. His dick was trapped between our stomachs, hard and wet from friction and arousal. Rain washed down through the leaves, soaking our hair and our skin.

Every thrust in and tug out was reminding me of the first time Drake and I made love. The only difference now was that we were much more experienced, much more comfortable and much more in love with one another now than we were before. Now we were so much more than a young couple going for our first time. Now we were a mature, in love couple making passion like we were the only people left in the world…

"Adam… Adam, I…" Drake moaned into my neck, panting heavily as he pressed himself as close as he could to me, tightening his hands in my hair. The rain had made our bodies slick and slippery, and it was hard to hold onto him but I managed as I thrust hard and fast into him, leaving kisses into his scarred cheek.

"I've got you… I've got you Drake. Fall apart, baby. I'm here. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere…" I promised, bring a hand up into his hair, swiveling my hips as fast and as hard as I could, nailing that spot within him. Drake moaned louder and louder before crying my name into the air, coming hard between our stomachs and chests, tightening around me. I gasped, jerking up into him as I released, clinging onto him as we rode out our climax, the rain continuing to pour like it had the first night we made love.


	19. Oh Baby You're So Cruel

**Chapter Nineteen: I'm Just a Holy Fool, Oh Baby You're So Cruel  
Drake's POV**

After the night before, I didn't want to go into work. My mind was still focused on the multiple times Adam and I had made love in the park under the stars and the light rain that washed down around us for most of the night. I really wanted to just stay curled up with Adam in our bed and ignore this stupid artist's meeting. We had them every six months, to talk about what kind of art was selling and what needed to be dropped all together. It usually just went something like "Drake, you've got the highest sales so don't worry". I never needed to go but my boss would have been angry if I skipped out.

Peeling myself from the bed, I kissed Adam tenderly. He whined in his sleep, reaching out to wrap his arms around me but he ended up just cuddling right up to my pillow instead and I couldn't help the snort of laughter before I left our bedroom, still completely naked, and went to the bathroom. I was going to need a nice, steaming shower before I was ready to go anywhere.

I liked my showers hot, so I only turned the cold on enough to bring the scorching temperature down enough that it would actually burn my skin. The hot water felt amazing on my still kind of chilled skin. Usually when Adam and I had sex, it left me burning up, but since we'd spent so long out in the rain, I was still feeling a little cold. I doubted I was actually getting sick though. I never got sick. Fucking Hell, I was Cajun, I didn't get sick.

Hair shampooed, conditioned and blow-dried and skin squeaky clean, I tucked a towel around my waist and crept back into Adam's room and mine. He was still curled up with my pillow and I rolled my eyes, tugging my closet open and walking in to gather up a pair of green skinny jeans, a black tee and a white and black vest. I quickly pulled my outfit on, tugged on some calf-high boots and went back over to Adam. "I'll see you in a few hours, baby," I muttered, kissing his forehead gently before leaving the bedroom, taking up my keys and laptop bag and going outside.

It was a beautiful day, around eleven thirty in the morning and I just couldn't waste that. I had been extremely leery of walking anywhere by myself since the attack, but it was late morning, almost afternoon. Attacks like that didn't happen in the middle of the day. It was past midnight when I had been attacked before, but in broad daylight? I highly doubted it, I just hoped I wasn't going to regret that later. Knowing my luck, I would, but I couldn't be afraid of being out by myself for forever, so this was a great place to start, I supposed.

I made it to the meeting and, of course, my boss told me what a good job I was doing with sales. Once again, a couple hours wasted for me. We spent a lot of time talking about art trends that people were absolutely not interested in buying but they were all styles I hardly ever tried or never touched in my life, ever. We spent some time talking about preferred styles of today and predicted fads of tomorrow.

We had free cookies and cakes and desserts, so I supposed that was a reason to come. We also had free coffee and I basically ran on coffee, so I downed a few Styrofoam cups of that with cream and sugar of course. I also ate a few cookies, just because sugar cookies were the best things ever.

As a final note, we talked about how much each artist was actually making at his or her art shows and I was amazed at how much more I made than everyone else. It was definitely a shock, because I made quite a lot, but I assumed that everyone I worked with made similar figures. They were, for the most part, very talented artists, but apparently they weren't as talented as I thought. Who would have guessed?

When the meeting was over, I practically jumped at the door. I knew my boss and I knew he would have wanted to keep me back to talk to me or talk me into doing something and I was just not in the mood to listen to him ramble forever, so I quickly pushed out of the building, slipping my iPhone into the back pocket of my jeans and pulling my laptop bag over my shoulder. I'm sure my boss was able to see the bright green bag zoom out of the meeting, but thankfully he didn't follow me to stop and talk to me.

I managed to get a few blocks away without any interruptions, but then I heard someone I didn't really want to see call to me. "Drake!" he shouted and I could hear heavy shoes slapping the concrete of the sidewalk. "Drake, wait, please!" Mark shouted again and I sighed, slowly my pace enough for him to be able to easily catch up to me. Part of me just wanted to bolt, but I knew he wasn't going to stop until I told him to stop. I wished he would just give up though. I couldn't really deal with him much more if he was just going to constantly upset my boyfriend and me.

His hand landed on my shoulder and pulled me to a stop. I sighed, turning to face him. "Mark," I said and he looked a little desperate. "What do you want? You are, honestly, the last person I want to talk to after what you did at my show," I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

He sighed, looking away as if he were really ashamed of what he'd done but I doubted he really was. "Look, Drake, I'm really so very sorry, but I just can't help it. Seeing you with Adam is… killing me…" he muttered. "He's famous and he's always making out with other people and he doesn't seem to treat you right at all. I mean, how many times did he make out with that blond in his band while he was on tour? He doesn't treat you like he loves you…"

"How would you know how he treats me, Mark? What is this really about? Why do you care if I'm with Adam? It isn't like it's going to affect you in any way if he breaks my heart, which he won't," I said and he frowned hard at me.

"You really are that dense, aren't you?" he asked and I scuffed, pulling away from him a little. "Drake, I don't _care_ about _Adam_! I care about _you_! And I… I don't want to watch with you with him because _I_ love you!" he exclaimed, but it was more like he was shouting at me instead of expressing his devotion and love. "I can give you a life that Adam can't, Drake! I can be everything you need and want!"

"Mark, I already have everything that I want and everything that I need in Adam. He isn't perfect, but neither is anyone else. He is everything I want and I'm sorry that I'm hurting you, I didn't every want you to fall in love with me, you were a great friend but now you're getting… borderline scary and you show up everywhere I'm at. In a city this big, you can't just call that coincidence, so are you following me or what?" I asked, kind of rambling everything out, but I thought I, at least, got my point across well enough.

"Drake… Why can't you fucking see that Adam doesn't care about you?" he nearly shouted, his hands coming up to grip my upper arms, shoving me into the outer exterior of a nearby brick building. "He _doesn't_ care about you! Do you really think that a famous, glam pop star wants to stay with a boy who's got such a fucked up face?"

My eyes went wide, tears instantly brimming in my eyes, completely. "Excuse me…?" I whispered.

"Face it, Drake, half of your face is fucked up! You can't be the boyfriend of a gorgeous pop sensation is going to want to stay with you? Sure, he's with you right now because you're a nice ass that he can fuck until he finds something better and more beautiful than you! He's going to walk away because you aren't the gorgeous guy that he wants to be seen with everywhere he goes, you're just a good fuck for dark rooms when no one is watching," Mark spat in my face and I could feel a few tears rolling down my cheeks, both the smooth and rough side.

"First off, you don't know Adam and you don't know what he wants or what he likes. Just because he's famous, doesn't make him an asshole," I muttered, pushing at him to get away. "Second off, if you really loved me, you wouldn't be saying something like this to me. This definitely is not a way to charm a boy into your arms! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Anger spiked in his eyes and, for a moment, I was truly terrified of him. "What's wrong with me?" he asked, surprisingly calm, like right before a tornado hits. "What's wrong with me?" he repeated, taking a step away from me. He let go of my arms and clenched his fists. I wanted to just run away from him but he still had me cornered and I didn't want to take off just for him to become even angrier and grab a hold of me. "There's nothing wrong with me other than loving an ungrateful freak like you," he growled.

I stared up at him in shock, more tears flowing down my face. If he truly thought of me this way, why was he so intent on wanting me to be his lover? It didn't make any sense! And I was so close to a breakdown, I felt myself shaking a little. "Mark…" I muttered, hoping to compromise with him or something, but I truly doubted I would be able to calm his rage. I didn't know what he was going to do, but I was afraid of him.

He didn't reply to me, he just lifted one hand, the back of his palm raised to me before he wiped his hand through the air and slapped my right cheek as hard as he could. My head whipped to the side, stinging and agony burning in my scarred cheek. "You need to learn to fucking be realistic!" he shouted at me and I bit my lip, not turning my head back to look at him. "Adam is going to dump you the second he finds a hotter piece of tail and you are so stupid and stuck on the love you had for him before he was famous, you can't even see that he's going to destroy your life! He's going to break your fucking heart!

"Fuck you, Mark, just stop! Stop," I muttered, tears streaking my face. "Stop following me. Stop showing up in my life. Just. Stop. I'm done with you, now just leave me alone, or I'll call the police, I swear I will."

Mark actually growled at me, and not the sexy, arousing type of growl either. He sounded like a wild animal, ready to attack its prey. "You'll want me the second Adam dumps you on your ass," he snapped. "Trust me, you'll wish I was there to catch you when you fall on your skinny ass." He turned away before I could actually respond to him and he stormed off but I knew that this was not going to be the last time I saw him.

When I saw his head disappeared around the block, I pulled my iPhone from my back pocket and dialed Adam's number, leaning heavily against the wall with tears staining my face. I was so relieved when Adam picked up. "Drake?" he asked sleepily. I wonder if I just woke him up or if he was just groggy. "Baby, are you crying?" he asked, suddenly sounding much more alert.

"I need you to come pick me up, Adam…" I mumbled, trying to stop my tears, but they kept falling despite my attempts. "I'm at the bus stop on 2nd…"

"Okay, Drake, I'm on my way, but what's going on?" he asked me, sounding worried. I could hear him shuffling around, trying to get ready to leave, I was sure.

"I'll explain everything when you get here, just hurry, please…" I pleaded.


End file.
